THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 

9  l  l 

ENGLISH 
SEMINAR 


Flights  and  Farads, 

MERRITT  CROMWELL. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

Merritt  Cromwell, 
in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


REMOTE  STORAGE 


What  does  his  wife  say  to  these  goings  on  ? 


I  do  hereby  dedicate  this  little  volume  to  my  wife, 
who,  endowed  with  rare  good  sense,  and  confidence  in 
me,  feels  that  all  my  VAGARIES  have  resulted  in  nothing 
but  a  fund  of  innocent  amusement,  with  the  exception 
of  calling  forth  these  HORRID 


N  ANSWER  TO  ALL  INQUIRING  FRIENDS 


"FLIGHTS  AND  FANCIES. 


Reader,  in  this  book  combined, 

Mirth  with  sentiment  you'll  find ; 

Whether  'tis  wisdom  or  all  fudge, 

Read,  and  be  yourself  the  judge. 

For  nearly  thirty  years,  at  times, 

I've  dabbled  with  the  muse  in  rhymes, 

And  stationery,  wasted  more, — 

Most  likely,  than  they'll  pay  me  for. 

Sometimes,  as  streams  they  gushing  run, 

And  sense  forget  in  gurgling  fun ; 

When  oft  I've  lain  awake  of  nights, 

To  set  the  foolish  things  to  rights  ; 

And  often,  after  hours  of  care, 

Pages  had  to  rip  and  tear. 

Again  as  labor'd  as  the  snail, 

Who  progress  marks  with  slimy  trail, 

I've  worked  in  vain,  in  proper  dress, 

Some  thought  or  feeling  to  express, 

Till  doubly  hypped  with  toil  and  ire, 

I  cast  the  abortion  in  the  fire. 

And  then,  again,  a  strange  delight 

Steals  o'er  my  senses,  as  I  write, 

When  words,  with  thought  and  feeling  chime, 

And  dance  and  bubble  into  rhyme ; 

When  all  we  know,  or  hope,  or  fear, 

Expression  can  give  voice  to  here, 

When  every  throb  and  pang  we  feel, 

The  pen  to  others  doth  reveal, 

Yes— then  it  is  a  joy  to  me, 

This  little  gift  of  minstrelsy. 

Ye  pages,— go  transmit  the  spell, 

Bid  mirth  explode, — bid  feelings  well; 

I've  said  enough,—  this  lingering  cloys, 

Go  do  your  best  to  make  a  noise. 


CONTENTS. 

Page. 


Our  City  Sires   13 

The  Times     15 

Love's  Argument   18 

Anacreontic     19 

My  Mistake   20 

History    21 

The  Fly  Fisher's  Song   23 

The  Sport's  Lament   24 

On  a  Bend   25 

Scandal   27 

Spring   ,   34 

Ode  to  Dyspepsia    35 

Indecision     36 

Jilted   37 

The  Bowl   ,38 

Doctor  Dose    40 

Impatience   51 

Persuasion    52 

The  Declaration   53 

Devotion    54 

Lemonade   55 

Reassurance   56 

The  German's  Complaint   57 

Catching  a  Salmon    59 

A  Servant  Maid's  Adventure   61 

A  Picture       64 

The  Secret   68 


x  CONTENTS. 

Page. 

Summer  is  Coming   69 

Zeke  and  Sarah   71 

Wine  Versus  Poison*   73 

My  Pipe   75 

The  Parting  Glass  ...   77 

Impromptu   78 

Anticipation   79 

Passion    80 

The  Comparison   81 

Love  ,  ......   81 

The  Invitation   82 

To    84 

To  Mrs.  M.  S.  C*  . .   85 

To  Mrs.  V  -n   86 

Neptune's  Dues . . .   87 

Fortress  Monroe    89 

To  Mrs.  V  n   91 

To  Ella   92 

The  Ring*   93 

The  Trade  to  Learn*   96 

To     97 

To    98 

To  Mrs.    98 

One  of  The  Boys   99 

Blind  Brook  ,   100 

Unfathomable   103 

Resignation   104 

To    105 

To  Rosetta   107 

To    108 

Ni?ht-caps   109 


CONTENTS.  xi 

Page. 

Mickey  Mc'Coy   110 

Old  Ocean   112 

On  a  Dish  of  Fried  Flounders   113 

My  Dream   114 

The  Cigar*   115 

The  Rose   116 

To     116 

To     117 

To  My  Wiie   118 

Let  Us  be  Gay    119 

Acrostic   120 

Annerbeller  Burde   121 

Song,  Come  Lads  Fill  Away   123 

A  Reverie  124 

Retrospective*   125 

Pumpkin ville  News   126 

The  Rebuff   131 

I  Knew  by  the  Puddles*.   132 

To  Mrs.  M.  S  C*  ,   133 

Lost   134 

Forty-Six   135 

The  Adventures  of  Phelem  O'Slaughterdy     136 

To  Mrs.  V  n  .:   142 

A  Pastoral  Duet   143 

Voices  of  Spring*    145 

Sunlight   146 

Cousin  May    147 

To  Mr.  and  Mrs.  M.  P.  D   148 

A  Catastrophe   149 

To  Miss  Lydia  Thompson     150 

A  Warning  to  Sportsmen   152 


xii  CONTENTS. 

Page. 

The  Deluded  Smoker   153 

Impromptu   154 

Dining   155 

Oyster  Stew   156 

My  Valentine    156 

To  Etta   157 

Logic   159 

To  Clara  Louise   160 

To  Julie   161 

To  My  Washerwoman   163 

The  Girls..  ....  164 

To  Fannie   ...  169 

To  Prof.  S.  T.  Frost   170 

A  Fancy   171 

My  Boat   172 

The  Girls  that  We  Loved  Long  Ago   173 

To  Alice   175 

Lines  Written  in  Miss  G  n's  Album   181 

Lines  Written  in  Mrs.  C  n's  Album.    182 

Lines  Written  in  Miss  O'Leary's  Album   182 

To  Lellie    183 

To  the  Misses    184 

To  the  Misses    187 

A  Simile   196 

My  Vision     197 

To  Mr.  and  Mis  Henry  Held   198 

Punctuation  in  Fly  Time   199 

Nonsense   200 

Wisdom   202 

Cats   203 

Epigrammatic   205 

Mother  Goose,    continued   207 

To  Henry  Bergh,  Esq   209 

Woman's  Rights       210 

Past,  Present,  and  Future   214 

Pieces  marked  with  a  star,  (*)  have  appeared  in  the  Newspapers. 


QUR  j§ITY  §IRES. 

Air. — "  Yankee  Doodle. 
[Written  in  1852  or  '53.] 

^ save  the  lusty  Aldermen, 
I   These  Fathers  of  the  City; 
Tho'  people  call  them  dirty  rogues, 
Tis  only  to  be  witty. 

They  say  they  rob  the  city  funds ; — 

'Tis  purely  an  invention; — 
For  God  knows  every  Alderman, 

Is  honest  in  intention ! 

Enormous  bribes  they'd  have  you  think, 
These  upright  men  will  pocket; 

And  when  a  city  grant  is  sold, 
Like  Peter  Funks,  they  mock  it. 


14 


OUR  CITY  SIRES. 


That  when  a  rowdy  voter 's  sent 

To  serve  his  time  in  jail, 
These  kindred  hearts  a  brother  see,. 

Entitled  to  leg  bail. 

On  one  dear  Sire  the  Sheriff  seized, 
And  in  the  tombs  confined  him ; — 

But  to  the  Habeas  Corpus  act, 
The  blackguard  soon  resign'd  him. 

Heaven  bless  the  Aldermen  ! 

From  tax-payers  defend  them  : 
The  Hypochondriacs,  I  dare  say, 

To  Beelzebub  would  send  them  ! 


Yankee  Doodle,  Doodle  do, 
Yankee  Doodle  dandy, 

Yankee  Doodle  keep  it  up, 
With  city  pap  be  handy. 


I 


|HE  f  lMES. 


[  Written  in  the  year  1855. 1 


these  are  most  wonderous  times, 


jfeSBaal]    And  this  is  the  strangest  of  nations  ; 
Here  the  Fishes  are  coining  their  dimes, 
By  their  spiritual  manifestations. 

The  Foxes  will  call  up  a  ghost, 
The  order  of  things  so  reversing  ; 

Tho'  a  man  be  as  dead  as  a  post, 
In  a  moment  they'll  have  him  conversing ! 

And  many  go  crazy,  'tis  said — 
For  the  idea's,  truly,  most  shocking, 

To  think  that  a  person  who's  dead, 
Should  under  your  tables  be  knocking. 

Now  the  Bloomers  have  taken  a  flight, 
And  the  length  of  their  skirts  so  diminished, 

They'd  have  been  a  remarkable  sight, 

If  with  trousers  they  hadn't  have  finished! 


THE  TIMES. 


We've  a  quack  on  the  cold  water  plan, 

His  wife,  it  is  said,  is  another; 
Tis  known  that  he's  but  half  a  man, 

And  she  bloomers  to  make  up  the  other. 

They  at  Winchester  opened  a  house, 
Where  astonishing  cures  were  effected ; 

Patients  went  in  as  lean  as  a  mouse, 
And  came  out  in  a  way  unexpected. 

We've  a  notable  character  here, 
Who,  by  of  your  cranium's  feeling, 

Can  tell  if  you  incline  to  small  beer, 
Or  if  you're  addicted  to  stealing. 

If  in  business  you  wish  to  succeed, 
You  have  only  with  him  to  consult  ; 

From  your  bumps  he  will  learn  what  you  need, 
And  can  tell  you  at  once  the  result. 

Or,  if  you  to  marriage  incline, 
To  him  your  intended  you  show  ; 

Your  interest  you  then  can  resign, 
If  her  bumps  shouldn't  suit  you,  you  know. 

But  the  wonder  of  this  wondrous  age, 
Is  that  king  of  the  showmen,  P.  T.  B. ; 


THE  TIMES. 


If  you'd  put  yourself  into  a  cage 
Phineas,  what  fun  it  would  be. 

What  is  it,"  Woolly  Horse,  and  Mermaid, 
White  nigger,  fat  woman  and  all ! 
You'd  cast  everyone  in  the  shade; 
The  whole  Yankee  nation  would  call. 


jfovE's  Argument. 

Philis,  what  makes  you  so  coy  ? 

Of  my  heart  you're  the  pride  and  the  joy; 
Why  take  it  amiss 
When  I  offer  a  kiss  ? 
Oh  !  blame  not  a  little  blind  boy  ! 

For  you  know  my  dear  girl,  Love  is  blind; 
Don't  use  him,  I  pray  you,  unkind; 

Do  what  I  desire — 

'Tis  all  he'll  require — 
And  his  lessons  quite  pleasant  you'll  find. 

When  I  offer  a  kiss,  why  then  you 
Should  resent  it,  by  giving  me  two; 

For  instance,  here's  one — 

Now  a  couple  I've  won — 
No — another;  the  last  was  askew. 

There, — what  is  the  damage  done,  pray  ? 
You  have  only  to  do  as  I  say, 

And  we'll  live  in  delight, 

From  morning  till  night, 
And  thus  the  boy's  wishes  obey. 


NACREONTIC. 


RING  me,  boy,  a  flowing  bowl, 
To  drive  the  vapors  from  my  soul ; 
Why  should  we  with  grief  repine, 
When  joy  is  sparkling  in  our  wine  ? 
Ne'er  was  soul  so  charged  with  care, 
But  wine  could  cast  its  sunbeams  there ; 
Trust  in  Bacchus — long  and  deep 
Drink,  and  sorrow  soon  will  sleep. 
His  flaming  wreath  is  o'er  my  brow, 
A  blissful  thrill  steals  thro'  me  now : 
The  goblet  fill  without  delay, — 
Haste,  ere  this  glory  fleets  away  ! 
My  soul  throws  off  her  bonds  of  earth, 
Quickening  to  celestial  birth, 
While  my  brain  with  fancy  free, 
Soars  beyond  mortality. 


flY  fflSTAKE. 


||N"CE,  I  will  own,  I  was  smitten 

With  a  nymph  who'd  a  killing  dark  eye  ; 
But  the  jade,  she  soon  gave  me  the  mitten — 
The  cause  you'll  discover  by-and-by. 

One  morning  I  called  on  my  charmer,— 
She  wTas  dressed  in  a  sweet  disabille ; 

When  my  warmth  did  so  greatly  alarm  her, 
That  she  vow'd  I  was  using  her  ill. 

Then  down  on  my  knees  did  I  tumble, 
And  begged  her  at  once  to  be  mine ; 

My  fortune,  which  none  could  call  humble, 
With  my  heart,  to  her  care  I'd  resign. 

She  answered  she  thought  me  most  clever, 

An  exceedingly  nice  young  man ; 
But  her  hand,  she  could  give  me,  no — never, 

She'd  already  engaged  it  to  an  interesting  indi- 
vidual by  the  name  of  Dan — Dan  Jones. 


History. 

c_yr> 

^EAR  Mr.  Yanvechten  my  thanks  please  except  them, 
l   For  the  whiskey  so  kindly  presented; 
An  "  eye  opener"  you  say's  a  good  thing  in  its  way, 

As  often  has  been  represented. 
There  ne'er  was  a  sage,  in  the  good  olden  age, 

But  delighted  in  eating  and  drinking. 
You  in  history  find,  every  man  with  a  mind 

Of  his  own,  was  of  our  way  of  thinking. 
Alexander  the  Great,  as  he  sat  all  in  state, 

Would  toss  down  the  wine  by  the  bottle, 
And  never  give  up,  till  the  fumes  of  the  cup, 

Had  possession  complete  of  his  noddle. 
King  Solomon,  wise,  (or  else  the  book  lies) 

Was  addicted  to  wine  and  to  women. 
Old  Noah  got  tight  who  Ham  found  in  the  plight, 

And  caught  for  his  joking,  a  trimming. 
While  Plato  Divine  was  partial  to  wine, 

And  sipped  it  with  true  philosophy; 
Anacreon  too,  from  the  bright  cup  drew, — 

It  assisted  him  greatly  in  prosody. 
The  sage  Aristotle,  was  a  friend  to  the  bottle, 

And  from  it  he  drew  inspiration ; 
Both  Pompey  and  Cato,  would  every  day  go, 
To  drink  to  the  health  of  the  nation. 


22 


HISTORY. 


Then  fill  up  the  bowl  to  each  thirsty  old  soul, 

Who  to  regions  above  have  departed; 
I  wonder  how  there,  the  wine  will  compare, 

With  that  which  they  drank  ere  they  started 
Fill  up  then,  fill  up,  joy  swims  in  the  cup; — 

We'll  toast  every  sage  in  a  brimmer, 
The  heart  it  makes  light,  the  intellect  bright; — 

Here's  a  health  to  each  defunct  old  sinner  ! 


he  Sly  ffisHER's  -Song. 


||N  the  morning  early, 
When  the  skies  are  pearly,, 
Ere  the  sun  has  risen 
From  his  eastern  prison, 
We  anglers  haste  away. 


To  the  streamlet,  purling, 
In  light  eddies  whirling  ; 
Where  with  beauties  gleaming,. 
Speckled  fry  are  teeming, 
Leaping  for  their  prey, 


The  fly  now  casting  lightly, 
Lending  motion  sprightly; 
Nature's  self  assuming, 
To  distruction  dooming 
Many  a  goodly  Trout. 


There,  away,  they're  breaking, 
Glassy  circlets  waking; 
The  lure  they  seize  so  greedily, 
The  struggle  ending  speedily, 
And  we  drag  them  out. 


H  !  once  I  had  money  in  plenty, 
And  sported  a  killing  mustache  ; 
But  now  all  my  pockets  are  empty, — 
For  one  day  I  came  down  with  a  crash. 

Friends  I  could  count  by  the  dozen, 
Who  flattered  and  borrowed  my  cash, 

Was  a  trump  with  aunts,  uncles  and  cousins, 
Until  I  came  down  with  a  crash. 

To  parties  no  more  I'm  Invited 

By  aunts,  who  once  begged  me  to  come; 
By  uncles  and  cousins  I'm  slighted, 

Who  once  wished  to  call  me  their  chum. 

Folks  whisper  when  by  them  I'm  stalking, 
"  Poor  Blazeup  he's  all  gone  to  smash; " 
Friends  would  not  be  seen  with  me  talking, 
Since  the  day  I  came  down]with>  crash. 

Beware  of  the  friends  that  you  cherish, 

All  you  who  are  cuttingha  dash; 
Their  friendship  will  certainly  perish, 

The  day  you  go  down  with  a  crash. 


(N  A  ©END 


|EJB|K>W  I'll  relate,  if  you'll  but  wait, 
P&JbI  What  happened  to  a  man  of  state; 
It  seems  that  he  with  two  or  three, 
Went  out  one  night  upon  a  spree ; 
Oft  times  they'd  stop  to  take  a  drop, 
And  many  a  champaign  cork  did  pop ; 
On  spreeing  bent,  with  dire  intent, 
A  gulph, — and  down  a  bottle  went. 
Up  spoke  our  friend,  this  night  shan't  end; 
Till  a  couple  of  dozen  down  we  send; 
With  right  good  will,  they  drink  and  fill, 
And  swallow  down  the  wine  to  kill. 
The  deed  is  done;  the  drunk  has  come; 
They  reel  and  stagger  every  one. 
One's  on  all  fours, — one  loudly  roars, — 
And  one,  under  the  table  snores ! 
Our  friend  takes  to  lunching, 
A  candle  end  munching, 

And  after  dessert,  goes  the  snorer  to  punching, 

Who  ready  to  bust,  with  indignity  just, 

Jumps  up  and  makes  at  our  hero  a  thrust; 

Now  at  it  they  go,  blow  upon  blow, 

While  the  claret's  beginning  profusely  to  flow ; 

That  hit  was  placed  neatly,  it  has  floor'd  him  completely, 

And  to  the  spittoon  he's  retreated  discreetly. 


ON  A  BEND. 


The  fight  is  now  over;  but  yet  far  from  sober, 

They  smash  everything  in  the  room  they  discover* 

Hearing  the  din,  the  owners  rush  in, 

And  kicking  them  out  of  the  house  now  begin; 

'Tis  a  wild  stormy  night, — disagreeable  quite, — 

I  think  very  few  will  envy  their  plight; 

Thro'  the  slippery  street,  with  unsteady  feet, 

Stopping  to  hug  every  lamp-post  they  meet, 

Hoping  to  find  landlords  more  kind, 

They  stagger  on  cursing  the  ones  left  behind. 

Lord  what  a  scream  !  what  can  it  mean  ? 

'Tis  one  of  them  bawling  a  chorus  'twould  seem ; 

A  policeman  nigh,  did  an  argument  try; 

When  floored  by  a  mighty  bad  hit  in  the  eye, 

With  rage  confounded,  his  club  he  sounded, 

When  suddenly  by  M.  P's  our  friends  are  surrounded ; 

They  bravely  show  fight,  but  are  worsted  despite, 

And  in  the  watch-house  pass  the  rest  of  the  night; 

A  word  in  your  ear — if  the  ' 1  lock  up  "  you  fear, 

Beware  how  you  travel  at  night  with  a  spreer; 

Don't  take  it  unkind,  that  I  put  you  in  mind, 

The  thing  never  pays;  if  you  try  it  you'll  find. 


fcANDEL. 


Scene. — Miss  Backbite  peeping  through  the  blinds  into  a  win~ 
dow  over  the  icay. 
Enter— Miss  Blowhard. 


iss  Backbite. — Miss  Blowhard,  why  how  do  you  do  ? 
I'm  exceedingly  glad  you  drop'd  in; 


I  have  so  much  to  tell  you  that's  new, 

I  scarcely  know  where  to  begin. 
To-day  I  was  out  for  a  walk, 

When  who  do  you  think  I  should  meet  ? 
Bill  Puffup,  who  stop'd  me  to  talk; 

The  creature  was  got  up  quite  neat. 
He  related  a  bit  of  a  joke, 

That  struck  me  as  drollish  and  rich, 
'Twas  about  that  young  ninny  Tom  Stroke, 

Who  married  the  old  widow  Fitch. 
It  seems  that  this  boy  of  a  groom, 

On  their  grand  wedding  tour,  one  day, 
At  a  hotel  had  ordered  a  room, 

Intending  some  time  there  to  stay; 
When  the  landlord  come  bowing  polite, 

And  asked  should  he  show  him  another, 
Or  if  he  preferred  it,  he  might 

Have  a  bed  in  the  room  with  his  mother  ! 


SCANDEL. 


You  have  heard  of  old  Greeneye,  I  know, 

Who  so  jealous  is  of  his  young  wife, 
For  fear  she  should  pick  up  a  beau, 

He  is  worried  near  out  of  his  life. 
Bill  said  that  himself  and  a  friend 

In  a  bar-room  were  smoking  one  night ; 
His  companion  had  been  on  a  bend, 

And  perhaps,  was  a  little  bit  tight; 
When  old  Greeneye  came  in  with  his  boy, 

And  Bill's  friend  with  a  hiccup  of  glee, 
Roared,  he  wished  Bill  an  ocean  of  joy, 

And  swore  the  lad  had  his  nose  to  a  * '  t. " 

Such  a  curious  story  I  heard, 

It  happen'd  down  here  to  Miss  Fleet  ; 
The  most  wonderful  thing  on  my  word; 

I  know  you  will  think  it  a  treat ! 
One  day,  with  her  father,  the  Squire, 

A  stranger  came  down  to  the  place, 
Whom  Miss  Fleet  did  greatly  admire, 

For  the  hair  that  he  wore  on  his  face. 
This  the  stranger  had  seen  at  a  glance, 

And  he  wished  for  no  better  beginning; 
For  he  thought  it  an  excellent  chance, 

An  heiress  and  fortune  of  winning. 
A  noble,  he  said,  in  disguise, 

From  treacherous  foes  he  had  fled; 
Eluding  the  government  spies, 

For  a  price  had  been  set  on  his  head ; 


SCANDEL. 


29 


Pursued  by  the  blackest  of  fate, 

He  was  forced  from  his  kindred  to  roam, 
Likewise  a  tremendous  estate, 

Worth  millions  of  money,  at  home. 
For  treason  he  had  been  condemn'd, 

Tho'  his  innocence  soon  would  be  proved, 
When  the  Emperor  for  him  would  send. 

And  the  stain  from  his  name  be  removed. 
He  would  then,  if  his  bride  she  would  be, 

Take  her  home  to  be  mistress  of  all; 
Where  vassals  on  bended  knee 

Would  attend  to  her  beck  and  her  call. 
The  maiden  was  tickled,  indeed, 

And  she  needed  no  urging  to  go  ; 
One  dark,  stormy  night,  she  agree'd 

To  elope  with  her  whiskerando. 
Next  morning  for  Miss  Fleet  they  sought, 

But,  alas  !  she  could  nowhere  be  found  ; 
The  lovers  were  not  to  be  caught. 

Tho'  the  country  was  searched  for  miles  round. 
The  squire's  two  best  horses  were  gone, 

They  had  carried  the  lovers  away; 
He  cursed,  and  he  stormed,  and  took  on, 

'Till  the  very  old  scratch  was  to  pay. 
A  week  had  gone  by,  it  is  said, 

When  she  rushed  to  her  father's  one  night, 
Declared  that  a  tinker  she'd  wed, 

And  was  dying  of  shame  and  of  spite. 
She  said,  when  about  to  retire, 


SCANDEL. 


The  evening  the  cheat  was  exposed, 
His  whiskers  broke  off  of  the  wire, 

And  a  poor  village  tinker  disclosed. 
What  a  scene  must  have  then  been  at  hand ! 

Poor  creature  !  I  pity  her  so  ! 
Her  despair  I  can  well  understand, 

When  she  found  that  her  Count  was  no  go 
She  immediately  took  to  her  bed, 

And  not  one  of  her  friends  will  she  see  ; 
While  the  squire,  for  cracking  his  head, 

Had  the  tinker  to  pay  a  large  fee. 

Oh  !  would  you  believe  it,  Miss  Murray, 

Old  Scroggins  is  going  to  wed  ; 
And  really,  is  in  a  great  hurry 

To  take  the  old  fool,  it  is  said. 
The  cause  is  quite  plain  to  discover ; 

'Tis  known  he's  as  rich  as  a  Jew  ; 
But  before  I  would  take  such  a  lover, 

I'd  go  without  stocking  or  shoe. 
But  she,  only  thinks  of  the  figure 

She'll  cut  with  his  wealth,  and  the  dash  ; 
I  believe  she  would  wed  with  a  nigger, 

If  he  had  but  the  requisite  cash. 

Miss  Bunkum  just  told  me  this  morning, 
That  old  Sammy  Skinflint  is  dead  ; 

And  his  nieces  have  all  gone  in  mourning  ; 
He  has  left  a  large  fortune,  'tis  said. 


SCANDEL. 


They  will  now  hold  their  heads  still  higher  ; 

They  always  were  stiff,  goodness  knows  ; 
And  scarcely  would  nod  to  Sophia, 

As  they  flirted  along  with  their  beaux. 
But  why  they  should  take  up  such  airs, 

I  cannot  divine,  for  my  part ; 
Their  father,  his  second-hand  wares 

Once  peddled  around  in  a  cart. 

'Tis  said  that  the  gay  widow  Dill, 

In  debt  runs  wherever  she  goes ; 
Without  ever  footing  a  bill ; — 

That  accounts  for  her  elegant  clothes ; — 
Last  Monday  she  ordered  a  hat 

From  the  milliner's  here,  Mrs.  Brown; 
When  they  had  in  the  store  quite  a  spat, 

She  refusing  to  pay  the  cash  down. 
The  jeweler  she  owes  an  amount, 

That  is  awful,  his  apprentice  declares, 
It  would  take  you  a  day,  just  to  count 

The  rings  and  the  trinkets  she  wears. 
For  dry  goods  she's  deeply  in  debt, 

The  grocer  she  owes  a  large  bill, 
Which  I'm  certain  he  never  will  get, 

She  could  pay,  but  she  has'nt  the  will; 
Yet  to  see  her  on  Sunday  at  church, 

You'd  think  her  uncommon  devout ; 
All  attention  to  good  Doctor  Murch, 

Responding  the  service  throughout, 


SCANDEL. 

There  is  Old  Mrs.  Saintly  they  say, 

Is  so  good  she  has  not  a  sin; 
It  may  be — but  I  met  her  one  day, 

When  she  smelt  rather  strangely  of  gin ; 
I  don't  say  the  old  lady  drinks, 

She  may  have  a  gin  poultice  applied, 
But  you  know  one  can't  help  what  one  thinks, 

Could  it  get  to  her  breath  from  outside  ? 

Young  Quickly  of  late  is  unsteady, 

Jones  told  me  he  saw  him  dead  drunk; 
That  half  of  his  fortune  already, 

By  drinking  and  gaming  he 's  sunk. 
"'Tis  plain  to  me  what  is  the  reason, 

Miss  Julap  has  cut  him  for  Bill; 
She  encouraged  him  for  a  whole  season, 

Oh  indeed  !  she  has  treated  him  ill. 

Oh  dear  me  !  now  what  do  you  think  ? 

Such  terrible  slaughter  I've  done; 
Sam  Lovewell  has  taken  to  drink, 

Because  I  his  company  shun. 
I'm  sorry  the  poor  young  man, 

Should  rave  and  go  on  at  this  rate; 
But  marry  him,  that  I  ne'er  can, 

When  I  wed,  it  must  be  an  estate. 
He's  handsome  enough  to  be  sure, 

But  that  you  know  is  not  the  thing ; 
As  long  as  the  fellow's  so  poor, 


SCANDEL. 


He  scarce  could  afford  me  a  ring. 
Bill  Puffup  is  more  to  my  mind, 

For  he  has  the  requisite  tin ; 
Tho'  treated  by  nature  unkind, 

For  she  made  him  as  ugly  as  sin. 
Good  looks  you  know  never  will  pay 

For  a  carriage,  a  dress,  or  a  ball; 
While  with  wealth  you  can  always  be  gay, 

Without  fearing  a  dun  in  each  call. 
I  know  by  his  glance  and  his  sigh, 

The  dear  fellow's  heart  is  my  own; 
Miss  Ketchem  to  catch  him  may  try, 

But  her  snares  to  the  winds  will  be  thrown. 
Well,  good-by,  I  wish  you  could  stay, 

Your  calls  are  most  welcome  to  me. — 

Now  she's  gone!  and  I  hope,  that  I  may 
The  old  dowdy  again  never  see. 


Spring. 


WEET  spring  is  now  resuming 
Her  glad,  triumphant  reign  ; 
The  hills,  and  dales,  assuming 
Their  robes  of  green  again. 

Its  icy  fetters  rending, 
The  brooklet  leaps  along  ; 

Thro'  sloping  meadows  wending, 
It  murmurs  sweetly  on. 

The  birds  are  gaily  singing 
Among  the  budding  trees, 

And  blossoms,  bright,  are  flinging 
Sweet  incense  to  the  breeze. 

Soft  April  showers  attending, 
Their  sparkling  treasures  yield  ; 

In  glittering  drops  descending, 
To  cheer  the  thirsty  field. 

Hark!  melody,  beguiling, 
Now  breaks  upon  the  ear  ; 

All  nature,  blandly  smiling, 
Proclaims  that  Spring  is  here. 


IDE  TO  DYSPEPSIA. 


j|HOU  direst  of  diseases, 

Brought  on  by  gorging  greases,. 
Pastry,  tarts  and  cheeses, 

Here's  at  thee  ! 
Parent  of  blue  devils, 
That  on  the  stomach  revels, 
And  all  ambition  levels, 

What  meanest  thou  ? 


Thou  generator  of  spleen, 

Of  faces  lank  and  lean, 

Of  cramps  and  aches  most  keen, 

And  suicidal  thoughts  ! 
Say  !  Why  this  dire  attack  ? 
Why  thus  our  bodies  rack 
Until  our  thoughts  are  black 

As  Hecate's  self  ? 

To  escape  thy  sovereign  will 
Bitters,  most  foul,  we  swill, 
With  quack  concocted  pill ; 

Yet  all  in  vain. 
On  sawdust  we  must  dine, 
The  sumptuous  board  resign, 
Drink  gall  instead  of  wine, 

Or  thou'rt  back  again. 


NDECISION. 


j|HEN  young  in  life,  I  sought  a  wife, 
And  glanced  the  fair  ones  over; 
A  girl  to  find,  to  suit  my  mind, 
Not  easy  to  discover. 


Fair  maids  I  knew,  and  beauties  too, 
Whose  glances  love  invited ; 

But  still  my  heart,  escaped  each  dart, 
And  Cupid's  efforts  slighted. 


A  pair  of  eyes,  blue  as  the  skies, 
One  day  would  make  me  falter; 

A  darker  hue,  would  shade  the  blue, 
And  my  intentions  alter. 

X  winnning  smile,  would  for  a  while, 
Haunt  me  with  its  beaming ; 

Until  a  face  of  purer  grace, 
Deprived  it  of  its  meaning. 

In  vain  I  sought,  by  wisdom  taught, 
To  fix  my  wayward  fancy ; 

To-day  'twas  Nan,  to-morrow,  Fan, 
And  next  day  'twould  be  Nancy. 


flLTED. 


Air. — "Doctor  Monroe." 

DISTRACTION  I'm  wretched  I'm  ruined  forever, 
With  rage  and  confusion  soon  frantic  I'll  go; 
My  first  fond  delusion  thus  rudely  to  sever, — 
My  heart  is  near  breaking  with  excess  of  woe. 

Who  would  have  dream'd  that  my  Moll  would  deceive  me, 
Such  an  angel  appearing  in  beauty  and  truth; 

That  for  that  squash-headed  old  major  she'd  leave  me, 
In  spite  of  my  killing  moustache  and  my  youth. 


How  oft  has  she  told  me  she'd  love  me  forever, 
And  vow'd  in  no  other  such  graces  she  found; 

With  a  smile  and  a  glance  so  bewitching  and  clever, 
As  round  her  white  fingers  my  moustache  she  wound. 

If  she'd  cut  me  to  fly  with  some  fine  dashing  fellow, 
My  loss  would  have  been  far  more  easy  to  bear; 

To  be  "  done  "  by  a  flunkey  the  hue  of  chrome  yellow  ! 
By  heavens  !  'tis  past  all  endurance,  I  swear  ! 


f  HE  pOWL. 


KNOW  by  his  reeling  and  staggering  gait, 
In  his  cups  he  had  lately  indulged; 
And  I  thought  what  a  history  they  could  relate, 
Should  past  scenes  in  his  life  be  divulged. 

I  saw  by  the  blossoms  that  bloom'd  on  his  nose, 

No  freshman  he  was  at  the  draught; 
The  god  he  had  courted  for  years  I  suppose, 

And  many  a  puncheon  had  quaff'd. 

No  doubt  he  could  tell  you  of  jovial  hours, 
He  had  passed  with  companions  now  gone ; 

When  the  board  had  oft  sparkled  with  wit's  brilliant  showers 
And  the  wine  circled  round  until  morn. 

Of  the  songs  that  were  sung  as  the  brimmers  were  filled > 

And  genius,  their  magic  had  moved; 
Till  the  chorus  resounding  to  heaven  was  thrilled, 

And  the  strength  of  the  potions  thus  proved. 

Perhaps  he  could  tell  you  of  one  who  was  dear 

In  the  innocent  days  of  his  youth, 
Whom  he  loved  with  a  passion  so  warm  and  sincere, 

That  he  felt  against  temptation,  proof. 


THE  BOWL. 


39 


How  her  smile  could  dispel  every  care  from  his  soul, 

And  fill  it  with  visions  of  light; 
How  she  warned  him  (with  tears)  to  beware  of  the  bowl, 

When  flushed  with  its  vapors  one  night. 

How  he  promised,  to  break  it,  and  promised  again, 

And  vow'd  to  be  tempted  no  more, 
Till  one  night  when  possession  wine  had  of  his  brain, 

He  felled  the  poor  girl  to  the  floor. 

How  she  never  survived  the  effects  of  the  blow, 

But  slowly  went  down  to  the  grave ; 
While  he  in  his  agony  left  here  below, 

Drinks  hard  his  soul's  torments  to  waive. 


^PON  a  time  to  New  York  came 
An  M.  D. ,  Epliram  Dose  by  name, 
He  was  a  graduate  of  college, 
And  a  diploma  had  for  knowledge. 
He,  in  dissection  was  well  posted, 
For  oft  he'd  carved  a  goose  when  roasted; 
At  analyzing  he  was  great, 
He  practiced  every  time  he  ate ; 
Was  at  phlebotomy  as  good, 
And  reckoning  fees  well  understood. 
He  had  an  office  and  a  store, 
With  ' c  Doctor  Dose  "  above  the  door  ; 
The  store  with  draws  and  jars  abounded, 
Whose  labels  ever  had  confounded 
His  customers,  and  patients  who 
The  more  they  spell'd  the  less  they  knew. 
White  powered  sugar  who  the  deuce  would  know. 
When  in  a  jar  marked  "Sacrum  Alba  Pulvo; " 
Croton  water,  "Aqua  Pura,"  here 
Must  precious  be  or  else  why  sold  so  dear  ? 
The  ointment  jars  were  labeled  all  Unguentum. 
Prescriptions  paid  a  very  big  percentum ; 
The  doctor  on  his  rounds  would  write, 


DOCTOR  DOSE. 


Some  score,  ere  he  returned  at  night, 

Directing  every  one  to  go 

To  No.  6,  for  then  he'd  know 

That  every  article  was  pure, 

And  of  its  virtues  feel  secure; 

If  others  were  employed  to  make  them, 

It  would  be  quite  unsafe  to  take  them; 

For  many  in  spurious  drugs  there  dealt, 

And  no  compunction  for  it  felt, 

Who  regular  to  their  church  would  go, 

And  of  religion  make  a  show ; 

Where  on  their  knees,  as  if  in  prayer, 

They'd  weigh  the  dross  the  gold  would  bear; 

If  from  such  drugs  a  relapse  came, 

They  must  not  charge  with  him  the  blame; 

Unless  they  did  as  he  directed, 

Improvement  could  not  be  expected. 

Two  clerks  were  busy  all  day  long, 

Dispensing  physic  to  the  throng, 

Who  hurried  in  for  draught  and  pill, 

And  remedy  for  every  ill 

That  flesh  and  blood  was  ever  heir  to, 

Their  miracles  they  both  would  swear  to. 

A  cure  invented  by  the  doctor, 

Who  is  a  skillful  drug  concoctor, 

Has  cast  all  others  in  the  shade, 

That  ever  yet  by  quack  was  made; 

The  advertisements  of  it  state, 

Its  powers  of  healing  are  so  great, 

The  keenest  tortures  to  assuage, 


DOCTOR  DOSE. 


That  'tis  the  wonder  of  the  age. 

Numerous  certificates  that  go 

To  prove  its  wonderous  cures  they  show. 

A  man  with  skineatus  had  lain, 

For  twenty  years  in  dreadful  pain; 

They  fastened  first  upon  his  toe, 

And  eat  their  way  up  sure  and  slow, 

Till  not  a  particle  of  hide 

Was  left  upon  him,  either  side; 

Indeed,  he  was  completely  raw, 

From  his  toe-nails  up  to  his  jaw. 

The  color  of  fresh  beef  was  he, 

A  most  horrific  sight  to  see. 

One  day  a  friend  when  by  his  side, 

Asked  him  had  he  ever  tried 

Dose's  ' '  Devil  Killing  Bitters, 

Or  Health  Insuring  Stomach  Fitters"? 

Ship  loads  of  stuff  got  up  for  sale, 

He  said  he'd  swilled  without  avail; 

He  had  received  no  benefit, 

And  swore  he'd  take  no  more  of  it. 

His  friend  who  knew  the  Bitter's  powers, 

[Of  fits  they'd  cured  him  in  two  hours;] 

Was  so  determined  he  should  try  them, 

He  went  himself  at  once  to  buy  them ; 

And  when  the  patient  still  objected, 

He  very  soon  a  cure  effected, 

By  holding  him  tight  by  the  nose 


DOCTOR  DOSE. 


And  dropping  Bitters  on  his  toes. 

Five  minutes  passed; — when  cries  were  heard; 

And  something  in  the  bed  clothes  stir'd; 

They  waited  but  a  moment  more, 

When  down  it  tumbled  on  the  floor. 

And  with  an  oath,  flew  out  the  door; 

The  skineatus  had  got  their  Bitters, 

A  dose  of  the  true  Stomach  Fitters; 

And  thus  forever  were  displaced, 

While  a  fair  skin  their  victim  graced. 

I  said  his  clerks  with  calls  were  busy — 

Indeed,  their  heads  with  work  went  dizzy. 

The  powders,  pills  and  potions  made, 

Down  people's  throats  to  be  convey'd. 

That  in  a  single  day  were  sold, 

'Twas  truly  shocking  to  behold. 

'T would  gripe  a  man  in  perfect  health, 

To  see  them  taken  from  the  shelf ; 

Did  you  a  dose  of  physic  seek, 

One  smell  would  last  you  for  a  week. 

In  comes  a  fellow  with  the  chills, 

To  get  some  anti-shaking  pills; 

One  wants  a  salve  to  raise  a  blister, 

*  #         *         *  * 

*  *•         #■         *  * 

*  *         *         *  # 
An  Irish  woman  staggers  in, 

In  smell  and  make,  a  keg  of  gin; 

And  wants  to  know  what  she  must  take 

To  cure  a  murthurin  stomick  ache. 


DOCTOR  DOSE. 


Be  japers,  whiskey  she  had  tried, 
And  gin  a  drop  or  two  beside, 
Instead  at  all  of  asin  pain, 
They'd  played  the  divil  with  her  brain; 
She  prayed  the  Yargin  to  deliver 
Her  bowels  this  time  and  she'd  niver 
Ask  that  same  favor — bless  the  day  ! 
"Till  Paddy  came  across  the  sae. 

In  comes  a  fellow  rather  tight, 

Who  says  he  is  not  feeling  right ; 

This  deuced  hot  unhealthy  weather, 

Would  soon  upset  him  altogether. 

He'd  heard  the  cholera  was  here, 

And  as  his  head  was  feeling  queer; 

He  thought  his  symptoms  he  would  state 

Before  it  got  to  be  too  late. 

Since  from  old  Putnam  he  came  down, 

To  view  the  sights  about  this  town, 

He  in  his  health  had  felt  a  change, 

And  lately  visions  had  most  strange ; 

Sometimes  his  thoughts  would  soar  so  high 

They'd  raise  him  really  to  the  sky, 

Where  forms  most  beautiful  to  see 

Were  flitting  round  divinity; 

Just  as  some  nymph  with  killing  glance, 

Had  sought  him  for  the  circling  dance, 

He  down  again  to  earth  would  fall, 

And  in  a  stinking  gutter  sprawl, 


.   DOCTOR  DOSE. 


Or  else  a  post  be  holding  to, 

While  from  his  mouth  his  supper  flew, — 

'Twas  now  that  he  did  first  discover, 

The  world  was  turning  over  and  over; 

He'd  read  about  it  in  his  youth, 

But  thought  it  overturning  truth. 

Of  late  his  sight  was  so  improving, 

That  he  would  swear  he'd  seen  it  moving, 

The  houses,  people,  everything, 

Were  really  topsy  turvying, 

With  force  centrifugal  so  great, 

As  gravitation  to  abate ; 

That  evening,  had  a  curbstone  flew 

And  bang'd  his  eyes  up  black  and  blue, 

When  to  use  a  saying  of  Shakspere's, 

He  saw  the  "  stars  start  from  their  spheres;" 

Some  boozy  loafers  reeling  by 

Allow'd  he'd  fell  and  hurt  his  eye, — 

And  when  he  dared  the  crowd  to  fight 

The  cowards  hinted  he  was  tight. 

Just  as  the  sidewalk  he  had  cleared 

An  M.  P.  came  and  interfered, 

He  told  the  crowd  to  travel  on; 

And  when  they  all  away  had  gone 

He  coolly  nabbed  him  by  the  collar, 

And  asked  him  to  shell  out  a  dollar. 

If  not  he'd  take  him  to  the  lock-up, 

And  thus  his  fun  for  some  time  block  up. 

To  Blackwell's  Island  they  would  send  him, — 

Six  months  there  would  most  likely  mend  him. 


DOCTOR  DOSE. 


No  doubt  it  would  improve  his  health 
Thus  working  for  the  common-wealth. 
Well,  rather  than  get  in  a  muss 
He  paid  up,  without  further  fuss, 
But  vow'd  if  he  should  ever  catch  him 
In  Putnam  County,  they'd  dispatch  him, 
Tar'd  and  feather'd  from  head  to  tail 
Up  salt  creek,  on  a  locust  rail. 
It  was  an  everlasting  pity 
Such  rogues  were  guardians  of  the  city. 
He'd  often  heard  the  corporation 
Were  a  disgrace  to  the  whole  nation. 
That  from  the  lowest  tool  to  chief 
They'd  take  a  bribe  from  any  thief ; 
'Their  minions  it  must  be  expected 
Were  skum  of  skum  when  so  directed. 
The  M.  P.  then  blow'd  out  and  swore 
He'd  make  him  pay  a  dollar  more ; 
This  time  he  thought  he'd  not  be  done 
So  trusted  to  his  heels  and  run, 
He  thought  it  risky  in  the  street 
To  go,  for  he  again  might  meet 
The  sneaking  rogue  and  blasted  liar, 
Who'd  swear  he'd  set  the  town  on  fire ; 
And  would  to  his  last  sixpence  fleece  him 
Ere  he  consented  to  release  him. 
Before  he  left  he'd  like  a  grain 
Of  something  to  clear  up  his  brain ; 
For  should  his  folks  behold  him  now 
That  he'd  been  on  a  lark  they'd  vow. 


DOCTOR  DOSE. 


Perhaps  he  wa'nt  exactly  right 

For  hang  it,  all  New  York  was  tight. 

While  thus  his  clerks  with  calls  were  flurried 

The  doctor  to  his  patients  hurried; 

He  felt  their  pulses  and  looked  grave, 

Then  hem'd  and  a  prescription  gave. 

Among  his  patients  was  a  she 

It  would  have  done  you  good  to  see; 

Good  did  I  say,  it  might  be  harm 

Did  you  appreciate  each  charm ; 

For  she  indeed  was  very  charming, 

Tho'  that  was  not  at  all  alarming ; 

The  trouble  was  that  those  who  knew  her 

Somehow  were  making  love  unto  her, 

Which  they  should  not  have  done  you  know, 

For  she'd  been  wed  a  year  or  so; 

The  doctor's  heart  she  did  assail, 

And  thereby  hangs  the  coming  tale. 

One  day  he  to  her  breast  applied 

A  lotion,  and  a  bosom  spied; 

***** 
***** 
He  took  her  han<J  the  pulse  to  feel, — 
That  touch  would  melt  a  heart  of  steel; 
It  lost  for  him  his  self  command, 
And  fast  he  grasped  the  dimpled  hand. 
He  stooped  her  pouting  lips  to  kiss, 
And  clasp  her  yielding  form  with  bliss. 
When  suddenly  a  crash  he  hears, 


DOCTOR  DOSE. 


And  in  the  shattered  door  appears 
The  lady's  husband,  standing  quiet, 
Prepared  to  dose  him  with  lead  diet. 
"  Doctor,  (the  husband  hoarsely  spoke,, 
And  smiled  as  if  he  liked  the  joke), 
Allow  me  to  prescribe  a  pill, 
An  antidote  for  every  ill ; 
Which  from  its  duty  never  swerves 
To  still  the  pulses  and  the  nerves ; 
A  lancet  here  is  never  needed, 
When  the  direction  is  well  heeded; 
To  a  stomach  sympathetic, 
It  sometimes  acts  as  an  emetic ; 
A  patient  may  survive  your  stuff — 
One  dose  of  this  will  be  enough 
With  all  your  sins,  a  heavy  sum, 
To  send  you  into  kingdom  come ; 
I  give  you  that  you  may  prepare, 
Five  minutes  for  much  needed  prayer; 
When  these  five  minutes  have  gone  by,- 
(He  spoke  it  slowly) — you  must  die." 
The  dose  the  doctor  don't  admire, 
He  wasn't  good  at  standing  fire, 
With  fear  and  trembling  he  did  quake, 
But  felt  an  effort  he  must  make. 
He  thought  of  diving  in  the  bed 
And  heaping  clothes  upon  his  head; 
But  then  he  knew  full  well,  forsooth, 
Blankets  are  not  bullet-proof. 
He  glances  at  a  window  open, 


DOCTOR  DOSE. 


Then  thought  of  bones  that  might  be  broken. 

The  time  had  dwindled  to  a  wink,— 

Indeed,  there  was  no  time  to  think; 

Quick  were  the  tables  all  surrounded, 

At  hotel  when  the  gong  was  sounded; 

And  mighty  quick  did  disappear, 

Comeatables,  I  tell  you  here; 

Quick — quick,  the  first  course  you  must  swallow, 

If  you  would  have  the  second  follow ; 

Quick  is  the  lightning's  vivid  flash, 

And  quick  the  following  thunder  crash ; 

Quick  is  the  swallow  on  the  wing, 

But  quicker  did  the  doctor  spring, 

As  on  the  wings  of  fear  he  flew, 

And  leap'd  that  open  window  thro' ; 

With  one  tremendous  yell  and  bound, 

He  sprawling  lay  upon  the  ground; 

With  reeling  head  and  aching  bones, 

And  curses  mingled  with  his  groans, 

He  staggered  from  the  hateful  spot; 

Uncertain  as  to  being  shot. 

A  loud  report  there  was  he  knew, 

Just  as  he  clear'd  the  casement  thro', — 

He  in  his  rear  a  tingling  felt, 

And  also  the  burnt  powder  smelt. 

But  when  more  coolness  he  had  gained, 

He  found  tho'  he  was  badly  sprained, 

He  had  escaped  unharm'd  the  ball, 

And  only  suffered  from  the  fall. 


DOCTOR  DOSE. 

He  limped  away  a  sorry  sight, 
A  begrimed,  bloody  looking  wight; 
And  as  for  his  blood-thirsty  foe 
He'll  surely  to  a  warm  place  go, 
And  have  a  smell  of  brimstone  fire, 
Should  Doctor  Dose  have  his  desire.. 


Impatience, 

56 


||0U  promise  me,  Eliza  dear, 
When  summer  days  have  fled, 
And  Autumn,  once  again,  is  here, 
That  we  shall  then  be  wed. 


Oh  !  distant  seems  the  time  to  me, 

Tho'  summer  now  is  nigh ; 
And  hours,  dear  one,  when  passed  with  thee, 

Seem  all  too  soon  to  fly. 

'Tis  when  no  longer  by  thy  side, 

I  feel  their  sad  delay; 
No  longer  then  they  swiftly  glide, 

But  slowly  creep  away. 

'Tis  then — 'tis  then,  that  I  repine, 

The  lingering  hours  deplore ; 
And  wish  to  heaven,  that  thou  wert  mine, 

And  all  sad  partings  o'er  ! 


Persuasion. 


|  |gj  EAREST  come  with  me  away, 

To  the  groves  and  meadows  gay; 
There  I'll  cull  thee  roses  sweet, 
And  lay  them  blushing  at  thy  feet; 
There  I'll  gather  blossoms  fair, 
And  twine  them  m  thy  golden  hair; 
Seated  'neath  some  spreading  tree, 
We'll  list  to  nature's  minstrelsy; 
To  the  warbler's  evening  song, 
Swelling  on  the  breeze  along; 
Or  we'll  wander  by  the  lake, 
And  watch  the  sparkling  ripples  break ; 
As  the  moon,  her  silvery  light, 
Scatters  o'er  the  waters  bright ; 
Whilst  the  mildly  beaming  skies, 
Guard  us  with  ten  thousand  eyes; 
Come  then  dearest,  come  away 
To  the  groves  and  meadows  gay. 


f  he  Declaration. 


!|  AIR  maids  I  had  met,  ere  I  saw  you,  my  love, 
Who  were  f orm'd,  every  heart  to  beguile ; 
With  ringlets  of  gold,  and  eyes  of  the  dove, 
Coral  lips,  pearly  teeth  and  sweet  smile. 


I  had  courted  their  glances  and  smiles  by  the  hour, 

Yet  escaped  all  unharm'd,  every  art; 
While  my  fancy  was  pleased  and  acknowledged  their  power, 

No  impression  they  made  on  my  heart. 

It  escaped  every  snare,  and  went  bounding  as  light 

As  the  waves,  on  a  midsummer  sea; 
And  thro'  I  might  sigh,  when  we  parted  at  night. 

They  were  naught  on  the  morrow,  to  me. 


Sevotion. 


j|HO'  but  absent  for  a  day, 
Slowly  wear  the  hours  away, 
And  with  sighs  I  oft  betray 
Impatience  for  their  sad  delay. 
But  when  with  thee,  then  the  hours 
Seem  possess'd  of  magic  powers ; 
Brighter  than  the  fairest  flowers, 
Fleeting  as  the  summer  showers. 


Seasons  will  forget  to  roll 

Icy  chains  to  bind  the  pole, 

Ere  Eliza  you,  my  soul 

Shall  cease  to  sway  with  love's  control. 

Let  us  not  so  long  delay, 

Name,  dear  girl,  the  wedding  day; 

Youth  will  not  forever  stay, 

Summer  flies — time  speeds  away. 


§EMONADE. 


OR  SWEET  AND  SOUR. 

SO  YE  is  a  wayward  child 
Born  of  the  passions  wild, 
He  bringeth  smart,  to  every  heart 
That  is  by  him  beguiled. 


But  bless  the  vagrant  boy, 
He  also  bringeth  joy 
To  lovers  true,  like  I  and  you, 
Who  love  without  alloy. 

Thy  arms  around  me  twine, — 
Now  bring  thy  lips  to  mine; — 
And  drinking  bliss  in  every  kiss 
We'll  taste  his  joys  divine. 


REASSURANCE. 


OUBT  not  dear  girl  this  heart  is  thine, 
And  thine  will  ever  be ; 
Nor  will  it  but  with  life  resign 
The  bliss  of  loving  thee ! 

Full  many  a  month  has  past  away 

Since  first  it  felt  thy  power; 
And  yet  I  feel  my  love,  to-day 

Is  but  a  budding  flower. 

A  passion  flower,  whose  rays  impart 

Bright  visions  to  my  dreams, 
Whose  tendrils  twine  around  my  heart, 

And  warm  its  inmost  streams. 


§HE  f ERMANS'  §OMPLAINT. 

Written  on  the  election  op  Mayor  Wood  in  1853. 

HAT  for,  got  for  tarn,  mean  these  temperance  folks 
To  shut  up  mine  place  on  one  Sunday; 
Do  they  think  that  we  beobles  will  stand  their  tarn  jokes, 
And  not  do  ter  puisness  to  Monday? 

What  for,  got  for  tarn,  did  ter  licence  I  pay 
When  mine  house  is  shut  up  for  one  trifle; 

Do  they  tink  I  shall  throw  mine  goot  monish  away, 
When  mine  puisness  is  gone  to  the  tivel? 

What  for  do  they  say  there  bes  liberty  here, 
When  one  mans  cannot  drink  when  he  wishes? 

In  Sharmany  we  drinks  every  day  in  the  year, 
And  swims  in  ter  beer  like  ter  fishes, 

What  for,  for  that  tarn,  wooden  Mayor  did  I  vote 
And  get  drunk  in  mine  head  when  he  pete  ? 

I  would  more  have  cut  one  long  hole  in  mine  throat, 
If  I  thought  he  was  one  such  tarn  cheat. 


58 


THE  GERMANS'  COMPLAINT. 


I  wish  that  the  Mayor  would  come  back  as  is  went, 

In  place  of  this  temperance  feller; 
On  Sunday  I  shall  sell  all  ter  beer  for  ter  rent, 

What  now  will  go  sour  in  the  cellar. 

Last  Sunday  von  Fry  and  mine  self  and  ten  more, 

Was  drinking  and  smoking  ter  beer; 
When  ter  votch  house  come  banging  up  to  mine  shut  door, 

And  we  like  to  gone  dead  with  ter  fear. 

Then  they  corned  in  and  say,  what  for  you  do  dis, 

You  shall  all  go  with  me  to  ter  jail, 
Then  von  Fry  they  will  kick  and  mine  f  row  they  shall  kiss. 

And  broke  off  my  Sunday  coat  tail. 

Then  they  took  me  up  too  with  the  other  mens  there, 

And  lock  me  all  up  to  next  day; 
When  they  brought  me  pefore  one  pig  man  in  ter  chair, 

Which  make  me  for  ten  dollar  pay. 


Hatching  a  Salmon. 


^HEN  morning  first  lights  up  the  sky 
And  throws  night's  dusky  curtain  by, 
Ere  yet  the  sun  the  hills  has  tipped, 
The  angler  who  is  now  equiped 
With  rod,  that's  flexible  and  long, 
A  reel  of  line  both  fine  and  strong, 
A  store  of  various  killing  flies 
And  creel  to  hold  the  expected  prize, 
Hastes  to  the  stream  beneath  whose  tide 
In  sheltered  haunts,  the  salmon  hide  ; 
There,  screened  behind  some  bush,  secure 
From  sight,  he  casts  the  fatal  lure ; 
Nor  long  impatient  doth  he  wait 
Maneuvering  the  tempting  bait, 
For  starting  from  the  hidden  deep 
A  fish  has  seized  it  with  a  leap. 
Now  comes  the  glorious  "tug  of  war," 
A  fish  of  twenty  pounds  or  more ; 
The  noble  prize  if  brought  to  land 
Must  be  played  with  a  master's  hand, 
See,  down  the  ruffled  stream  he  flies 
To  shoals  where  rocks  and  weeds  arise ; 
Now  turn  him  skillfully,  or  the  cost 
Is  that  both  fish  and  line  are  lost ; 
For  all  his  efforts  will  combine 


CATCHING  A  SALMON. 


On  the  sharp  ledge  to  cut  the  line, 
Or  wind  it  round  the  tangling  weed, 
When  all  were  labour  lost  indeed. 
But  see,  he's  turned,  and  now  a  main 
He  courses  up  with  the  tide  again, 
Leaps  from  the  stream  and  with  his  tail 
Strikes  the  slacked  line  without  avail. 
Tries  all  in  vain  his  cunning  arts, 
Then  stubborn  for  the  bottom  starts, 
And  motionless  there  surly  lies 
Nor  for  the  urging  line  will  rise ; 
Till  by  a  pebble  neatly  cast 
Above  the  spot,  he  moves  at  last. 
Again  to  snap  the  line  he  tries, 
He  leaps,  he  darts,  he  madly  plies, 
But  capture  surely  doth  await — 
No  art  can  save  him  from  the  fate ; 
For  see,  he  now  begins  to  tire, 
And  fast  is  loosing  all  his  fire. 
Now  as  upon  the  stream  he  lies 
His  blood  the  crystal  current  dyes. 
He  now  is  landed  with  the  wish, 
And  faith,  it  is  a  noble  fish! 


S  §  ERVANT  SAID'S  SdVENTURE. 


'HERE  once  was  a  maid,  who  fate  had  ordained, 


\fflxl&\  Should  work  out  as  help  if  a  living  she  gain'd; 
Or  in  other  words,  should  live  out  as  a  servant, 
Of  her  mistress's  wish  to  be  ever  observant; 
To  take  care  of  children  and  tend  to  their  wishes, 
To  wait  on  the  table,  and  wash  up  the  dishes ; 
To  rub,  and  to  scrub,  and  to  bring  in  the  water, 
To  make  up  the  beds,  and  to  run  as  a  porter. 
Soon  tiring  of  places  where  work  so  beset  her, 
She  often  would  change  them,  her  fortune  to  better  ; 
And  now,  when  we  make  her  acquaintance,  we  find  her 
Just  leaving  one  place,  for  another,  behind  her. 
Her  mistress  is  sorry  to  part  with  her  quite, 
But  refused  not  a  recommendation,  to  write; 
For  said  Betty,  ' 4  the  place  where  I'm.  going  to  live, 
I'll  not  get,  till  a  character  written  I  give ; 
And  sure  they  would  think  I  had  left  in  disgrace 
For  putting  the  silver  spoons  in  a  tight  place ; 
They'd  believe  it,  I  have  not  the  sign  of  a  doubt, 
That  I'd  shoved  every  spoon  in  the  house  up  the  spout." 
Well,  her  mistress  has  given  her  a  good  recommend, 
She  departs,  and  says  soon  for  her  clothes  she  will  send; 
She  had  not  gone  far  when  a  river  she  sees, 


62 


A  SERVANT  MAID'S  ADVENTURE. 


That  near  by,  was  running,  quite  hid  by  the  trees; 

For  a  bridge,  looks  around,  but  there  is  none  in  sight ; 

As  for  wading,  that  out  of  the  question  is,  quite  ; 

Tho'  the  water  was  shallow,  yet  she  was  afraid 

Of  wetting  her  petticoats,  were  she  to  wade ; 

As  for  holding  them  up,  that  never  would  do, 

For  then  her  bare  legs  would  be  brought  into  view, 

And  an  impudent  fellow  with  eyes  staring  wide, 

Was  looking  intent  from  the  opposite  side; 

That  he  should  behave  so,  was  truly  most  vexing,  - 

Indeed,  her  condition  was  very  perplexing. 

Just  as  she  was  giving  it  up  in  despair, 

A  friend  there  appear'd  to  dispel  every  care ; 

A  jolly  old  farmer  came  down  on  his  horse, 

And  asked,  ' '  was  she  wishing  the  river  to  cross  ? " 

She  said  that  she  was,  and  would  take  it  most  kind, 

If  he  would  allow  her  to  get  up  behind; 

He  consented,  and  lifting  her  up,  nothing  loth, 

Said  the  horse  was  well  able  to  carry  them  both; 

They  got  on  very  well  till  they  came  to  the  middle, 

When  the  nag  made  a  halt,  for  he  wanted  to  water. 

Now  the  maid  was  confused  by  her  strange  situation, 

Down  dropped  from  her  bosom,  the  recommendation; 

Which  she  ne'er  again  was  to  get,  it  was  fated, 

For  the  flood  had  the  river  so  much  agitated; 

It  was  buried  at  once,  below  the  foul'd  stream, 

And  ne'er  by  its  owner  again  was  it  seen ; 

Who  for  her  sad  loss  was  so  deeply  distress'd, 

She  was  wringing  her  hands,  and  was  beating  her  breast; 

Till  the  farmer,  who  felt  for  her  loss  as  a  brother, 


A  SERVANT  MAID'S  ADVENTURE. 


63 


Told  her  "never  to  mind  it,  he'd  make  her  another; 

To  cease  from  her  grief,  nor  give  way  to  distraction, 

An  excuse  he  would  write  that  would  give  satisfaction." 

He  took  from  his  pocket  a  pencil  and  wrote ; 

11  This  is  to  certify  that  Betty  Shote, 

While  crossing  the  river  with  me  this  day, 

A  very  good  character  lost  on  the  way; 

From  no  fault  of  her's  the  misfortune  came, 

If  any  one  was,  the  horse  was  to  blame; 

If  further  particulars  any  would  know, 

They've  only  to  call  upon  Farmer  Barlow. 

Moral. — There  is  many  a  maid  who  will  cry  for  the  loss, 
Of  a  character  smutted  by  man,  or  by  horse; 
And  find  every  art,  it  again  to  restore, 
Will  make  it  look  dingyer  than  ever  before. 


fi,  Picture. 


I EAR  girl  a  sheltered  nook  we'll  seek, 
Deep  in  some  flowery  dell; 
And  making  there  our  snug  retreat, 
In  sweet  seclusion  dwell. 


Our  cot  just  by  the  river-side 

'Neath  spreading  elms  shall  stand, 

A  garden  and  an  orchard  wide 
Well  have  at  our  command. 


Hard  by  our  door,  a  chrystal  stream 
With  blooming  banks  will  flow, 

Where  sporting  fry  like  silver  gleam 
CTer  sparkling  sands  below. 


By  distant  hills  the  charming  view 

Will  bounded  be  at  last; 
Where  lingering  clouds  of  varying  hue, 

Their  darksome  shadows  cast. 


A  PICTURE. 


Here  calm  our  lives  will  glide  away, 
With  ne'er  a  wish  to  roam ; 

Affection  wreathing  day  by  day 
Fresh  ties  around  our  home. 

Nor  will  our  lives  be  idly  spent, 
For  like  the  bee  we'll  strive — 

Each  on  our  pleasing  duties  bent — 
With  sweets  to  stock  the  hive. 

So  when  life's  fleeting  spring  is  o'er, 

Its  youthful  vigor  past, 
Provided  with  an  ample  store, 

Old  age  we'll  greet  at  last. 

*  Proud  chanticleer  at  early  dawn 
Shall  break  our  sweet  repose, 
Ere  yet  the  sunbeam  gilds  the  lawn, 
Or  dew  drop  leaves  the  rose. 

And  forth  we'll  hie  to  breathe  the  air 
Now  fragrant  with  perfume ; 

By  zephyrs  borne  from  meadows  where 
Wild  flowers  in  myriads  bloom. 

While  birds  their  melodies  will  sing 

Among  the  leafy  boughs, 
The  sky-lark  soaring  on  the  wing 

His  lingering  mate  arouse. 


A  PICTURE. 


As  cheerily  from  distant  hill 
Resounds  the  hunts-man's  horn, 

And  laughing  musie  of  the  rill, 
Upon  the  breeze  is  borne. 

And  now  as  joyously  we  greet 

The  duties  of  the  day, 
Hours  as  moments  seem  to  fleet — 

In  sunshine  dance  away. 

Soon  as  the  sun's  meridian  beams 

Descend  o'er  hill  and  glade, 
When  kine  resort  to  cooling  streams, 

And  court  the  grateful  shade, — 

Reposing  in  our  garden  bowers, 

We'll  pass  the  noontide  heat; 
While  murmurs  from  the  drooping  flowers 

Will  lull  our' slumbers  sweet. 

We'll  wander  tho'  the  sheltering  grove 

Where  all  around  invites 
The  youthful  heart  to  thoughts  of  love, 

And  all  its  pure  delights. 

'Till  startled  by  the  owlet's  cry, 

Who  with  departing  day 
Wings  his  dark  flight  from  woods  hard  by, 

To  seek  his  trembling  prey. 


A  PICTURE. 


We'll  listen  to  the  whip-poor-will 
Pour  forth  his  plaintive  strain ; 

As  evening  closes  o'er  the  hill, 
And  silence  else  doth  reign. 

Or  watch  the  light  and  graceful  sail 

In  shadowy  distance  fade; 
As  onward  by  the  favoring  gale 

To  destined  ports  conveyed. 

Or  our  light  bark  put  off  from  shore 

Just  as  the  day  declines ; 
While  to  thy  mellow  voice,  the  oar 

In  cadence  softly  chimes. 

Or  hoisting  sail  we'll  bear  away 

Across  the  moonlit  tide, 
Dashing  aloft  the  glittering  spray 

As  swiftly  on  we  glide. 

But  when  delaying  night  has  come 

In  sombre  mantle  drest, 
Returning  to  our  peaceful  home 

We'll  calmly  sink  to  rest. 

While  joy  and  love  shall  light  thine  eye — 
Health  bloom  upon  thy  cheek — 

Dull  care  our  cottage  ever  fly, 
Less  favored  haunts  to  seek. 


f  HE  -f  ECRET. 


j|HEY  ask  me  why  alone  I  seek 
To  pass  the  live-long  day, 
And  why  the  bloom  upon  my  cheek 

Is  fading  fast  away? 
They  tell  me  that  my  eyes  once  bright 

Have  lost  their  former  glow; 
They  beam  now  with  a  soften'd  light, 
And  lurking  sadness  show. 


They  little  deem  that  Cupid's  dart 

Has  pierced  my  tortured  breast, 
And  deep  lies  buried  in  my  heart 

Forever  there  to  rest, 
That  hid  beneath  thy  brilliant  eye 

His  bow  the  urchin  drew; 
And  heedless  of  my  plaintive  sigh, 

The  fatal  shaft  he  threw. 


§UMMER  IS  §OMING. 


|[HE  balmy  breeze, 

The  whispering  trees, 
The  azure  skies  so  clear; 
The  springing  flowers, 
The  genial  showers, 
Proclaim  that  summer's  near. 


The  warbler's  strain, 

Is  heard  again, 

Welcoming  the  day; 

While  the  purling  streams, 

Reflect  the  beams, 

That  with  their  ripples  play. 


The  wild  bee  roves, 
O'er  the  flower  he  loves, 
And  rifles  all  her  store ; 
Then  away  he  flies, 
While  the  blossom  dies, — 
For  the  bee  returns  no  more. 


SUMMER  IS  COMING. 

The  dew-drop  glows, 

On  the  opening  rose, 

Like  a  tear  in  the  loved  one's  eye ; 

Till  the  sun's  warm  ray, 

Lures  it  away, 

And  it  rises  again  to  the  sky. 

As  daylight  fades, 

In  evening  shades, 

And  night,  her  reign  resumes; 

With  scented  breath, 

Just  waked  from  death, 

The  evening  primrose  blooms. 

The  moon-beams  break, 
O'er  the  shimmering  lake, 
Reflecting  liquid  light; 
The  heavens  gleam, 
Beneath  the  stream, 
In  constellations  bright. 


EKE  AND  §ARAH. 


A  DOWN  EAST  PASTORAL. 


MfvA  EKE.  O,  Sally  you  have  stole  my  heart, 
JfiSd]  You've  stuck  a  skewer  thro'  it; 

Or  what  they  call  a  Cupid's  dart, 
Slam  bang,  before  I  knew  it. 

Sarah.  Git  eout  you  Zeke,  you  make  me  blush, 
You  look  so  'tarnal  spooney; 
You're  talking  gist  as  soft  as  mush, 
You  must  be  gittin  looney. 

Zeke.    I  feel  so  jolly  when  I'm  here, 
Jist  like  I  was  in  clover; 
The  bumble-bees  a  bumbling  round, 
With  honey  daub'd  all  over. 

Sarah.  Go  tell  that  'ere  to  black  Maria, 
She's  in  the  slop-room  yonder, 
A  bilin  doughnuts  by  the  fire, 
And  singing  psalms,  like  thunder. 


72  ZEKE  AND  SARAH. 

Zeke.     Now  I've  got  to  go  away, 
I  feel  so  dratted  slinkey; 
I'd  give  a  load  of  sass  to  stay, 
And  hug  your  little  pinkey. 

Sarah.  Ezekel !  you  do  that  agen, 
Jehoshafat  and  taller ! 
I  don't  know  what's  got  in  you  men, 
You  are  so  dratted  shaller. 

Zeke.     Brown  sugar's  stunnin  sweet, 

But  you're  a  darn  sight  sweeter; 
You're  jist  the  most  completest  gal, 
That  ever  peel'd  a  tater. 

Sarah.  Now  you  git  eout,  you  booby  you, 
You're  worse  than  yaller  janders;, 
Take  your  chops  away,  now  do, 
I'd  rather  kiss  a  gander's. 

Zeke.     Now  Sally!  when  we're  here  alone, 
Why  should'nt  we  be  jolly  ? 
Gravey  bolts  and  lobster  sass  ! 
I'll  have  a  buss,  by  golly  ! 

Sarah.  Stop  that,  you  Zeke,  go  mend  your  waysr 
Old  Scratch  ha'nt  got  your  ekel; 
Jerusalem  !  there  goes  my  stays, 
O,  ma  !  come  see  to  Zekel. 


yflNE  VERSUS  gOISON. 


j| HERE'S  magic  in  the  glass, 

The  gloomy  brow  'twill  brighten; 
Make  earth  for  heaven  pass, 

Its  joys  to  transports  highten. 
Then  drain  the  sparkling  bowl, 
With  rosy  wine  'tis  gleaming; 
Drink — drink  to  her,  whose  soul, 
With  thoughts  of  thee  is  teeming. 


Let  fanatics  declare, 

There's  poison  in  the  potion; 
We'll  speedy  prove  that  they're 

Mistaken  in  the  notion. 
Poison  beauty  kills, 

The  flush  of  health  soon  deadens. 
Wine,  new  life  instils, 

The  pallid  cheek  it  reddens. 


Poison  chills  the  breast 

That  once  with  love  was  beating; 
Wine  gives  a  double  zest 

To  every  thought  of  meeting. 


WINE  VERSUS  POISON. 


Poison  robs  the  eyes 

Of  all  their  soul-lit  meaning ; 
Wine,  like  stars  to  skies, 

Adds  brilliance  to  their  beaming- 
Poison's  deadly  blight, 

Withers  all  life's  powers; 
Wine,  with  ruby  light, 

Strews  the  way  with  flowers. 
Wit's  eifulgent  beam, 

Poison  quickly  blightens ; 
Wine,  the  electric  stream, 

To  lightning  flashes  brightens. 

Poison  fills  the  grave 

With  beauty  fresh  and  blooming; 
Wine,  age's  blood  will  lave, 

Till  youth  it  seems  resuming. 
Poison  racks  with  pain, 

Like  thrusts  from  gleaming  lances 
Wine  fills  the  sage's  brain, 

With  wild  ecstatic  trances. 

Poison  fills  the  mind 

With  visions  dark  and  gory; 
In  wine,  the  bard  will  find 

His  golden  wreaths  of  glory. 


MY  PIPE. 


Then  fill  the  sparkling  glass, 
The  wise  will  ever  choose  it ; 

And  he  is  but  an  ass, 

Who  can  with  zest  refuse  it. 


^HEN  my  pipe  I've  lit 
By  the  chimney  blaze, 
Visions  sprightly  flit 

With  the  rising  haze ; 
As  the  graceful  wreaths, 

Vanish  in  the  air, 
Thus  the  mind  it  leaves 

Oblivious  of  care. 
In  the  smoke  I  see 

Ghosts  of  times,  long  past; 
Things  that  used  to  be 

Eising  thick  and  fast. 
Forms  of  other  days, 

Features  once  I  knew, 
Pass  before  my  gaze, 
Vividly  and  true. 


MY  PIPE. 

The  romping  girls  and  boys, 

Their  laughter  light  and  gay 
Again  I  share  their  joys, 

And  mingle  in  their  play. 
Old  chums  around  me  sit, 

Old  flames  again  appear, 
Their  forms  before  me  flit, 

Their  voices,  too,  I  hear. 
Thus,  old  pipe,  in  thee 

Magic  powers  I  find  ; 
Bidding  sorrows  flee, 

Leaving  peace  behind  : 
A  spirit  subtle,  dwells 

In  thy  glowing  bowl, 
Beatific  spells 

Shedding  o'er  the  soul. 


f  HE  SMARTING  frLASS. 


HE'LL  drink — we'll  drink  together 
A  glass,  and  then  away  ! 
Your  health,  before  we  sever — 
Here's  luck,  go  where  you  may  ! 


Another,  ere  our  parting — 
That  moment  still  delay  ; 

Another,  yet,  ere  starting — 
Here's  luck,  go  where  you  may. 


And  yet  another  brimmer, 

A  little  longer  stay  ; 
See  how  our  glasses  glimmer — 

Here's  luck,  go  where  you  may. 

In  vain,  alas  !  the  endeavor, 
Our  wine  seems  weak  to-day  ; 

We  part,  and  O,  forever  ! 
Here's  luck,  go  where  you  may  ! 


n  impromptu. 


||TOP  !  organ  grinder, 
Grind  me  a  lay  : 
Something  I  pray  thee, 
Sprightly  and  gay. 


Go  it,  thou  monkey, 
Pocket  the  cash  ; 

Stop  that,  you  flunkey — 
Lord  !  what  a  crash  ! 


Why  did  you  do  it  ? 

You  loafers,  pray  tell  ; 
Faith  you  shall  rue  it, 

"  Tarn  you  to  'ell  !" 


Anticipation. 


||HY  childhood's  hours 
As  summer  flowers, 
Have  fleeted  now  away  ; 
Those  dreamy  years 
Of  smiles  and  tears, 
That  seem  of  yesterday. 


Yet  do  not  sigh, 

For  joys  gone  by, 

While  there  are  sweeter  near  ; 

The  joys  of  love, 

Sent  from  above — 

A  glimpse  of  heaven  here  ! 


Tho'  Time  has  sped, 

He's  only  shed 

His  brightest  gifts  o'er  thee  ; 

Thy  form  and  face, 

And  every  grace 

Brought  to  maturity. 


PASSION. 


As  daily  grows 

The  opening  rose, 

More  beautiful  and  bright, 

'Till  bursting  wide, 

In  all  its  pride, 

Entrancing  is  the  sight. 


^HO'  the  rains  in  torrents  fall, 
And  the  lightning  rends  the  skies, 
Still  I  hasten  to  thy  call, 
To  bask  beneath  thy  dreamy  eyes. 

What  care  I  for  storm  or  blast, 

When  to  meet  my  love  I  fly  ? 
Tho'  fierce  the  tempest,  soon  'tis  past — 

While  love  like  mine  can  never  die  ! 

Let  thy  arms  encompass  me, 
And  bid  me  welcome  with  a  kiss  ; 

And  Oh  !  may  all  our  meetings  be 
As  warm — as  kind — as  sweet  as  this. 


THE  COMPARISON. 


f  HE  § OMPARISON. 


LIZA  dear,  I  tell  you  true, 


IgJgSl    This  opening  rose  resembles  you, 
For  in  your  cheek  we  see  its  bloom  ; 
Your  breath  outvies  it  in  perfume  ; 
Cupid  makes  his  bed  of  roses, 
He  in  your  dimples  too  reposes. 


laSsEnl    Blooming  as  a  smile  of  joy; 
O'er  his  back  a  bow  was  flung, 
By  his  side  a  quiver  hung, 
Filled  with  arrows,  pointed  keen, 
Such  a  sight  I  ne'er  had  seen. 
I  paused  to  ask  him,  whence  he  came, 
Who  he  was,  and  what  his  name; 
When  quick  as  thought,  his  bow  he  drew, 
And  with  an  arrow  pierced  me  through. 
Since  then  I've  known  the  God  full  well; 
Lived  in  his  heaven  and  felt  his  hell. 


jSTE  day  I  met  a  rosy  boy, 


f  he  Invitation. 


]|OME  leave  the  city's  noise  and  strife, 
And  live  retired  a  rural  life ; 
"Who  would  not  city  pleasures  yield, 
For  dewy  mead  and  blooming  field; 
The  noisy  streets  and  dazzling  show, 
For  song  of  birds  and  streamlet's  flow  ? 
To  wander  thro'  the  whispering  grove, 
Where  nodding  boughs  entwine  above ; 
At  early  dawn,  at  close  of  day, 
To  hear  the  sparrows  sprightly  lay; 
To  rove  along  the  crystal  stream, 
Whose  banks  with  blooming  wild  flowers  teem, 
With  rod  and  artificial  fly, 
To  lure  the  unsuspecting  fry, 
That  struggling  on  the  treacherous  hook, 
Are  drawn  triumphant  from  the  brook ; 
At  noon,  alone  in  some  deep  glade, 
To  sit  and  ponder  in  the  shade; 
To  bring  to  mind  the  sorrows  past, 
And  brimming  joys,  too  bright  to  last; 


THE  INVITATION. 


Till  memory  calls  for  a  tear, 

For  those  now  gone,  who  once  were  dear; 

These  musings  sometimes  will  impart, 

A  gush  of  feeling  to  the  heart, 

A  something  stealing  o'er  the  mind, 

So  sad,  so  sweet,  so  undefind, 

As  with  their  faded  hopes  and  fears, 

We  bring  to  mind  those  by-gone  years, 

'Tis  now  our  soften'd  souls  incline, 

To  hope  for  joys  that  are  divine; 

O,  give  me  then  a  rural  home, 

And  naught  shall  tempt  me  more  to  roam. 


fo 


I)  OST  exquisite  creature, 
In  form  and  in  feature, 


In  beauty  and  grace  so  excelling; 
There  is  not  a  place 
In  that  angelic  face, 

That  Cupid  has  not  made  his  dwelling. 

He  flew  to  your  cheek, 
The  dimples  to  seek, 

And  rest  on  its  down  until  morning; 
No  more  he  will  roam, 
For  he's  made  it  his  home, 

His  rose-leaves  for  evermore  scorning. 

He  next  sought  your  lip, 
The  nectar  to  sip, 

And  revel  awhile  in  its  treasure  ; 
'Till  caught  by  a  smile, 
That  a  Saint  would  beguile, 

He  lies  there  now,  drunken  with  pleasure. 

In  the  glance  of  your  eye, 
I  feel  the  boy's  nigh, 

And  Ah  !  you  well  know  without  pleading, 
I  shall  die  if  your  charms 
You  yield  not  to  these  arms, 

My  heart  is  so  wounded  and  bleeding. 


to  Irs.  f .  |  I. 


EAR  madam,  the  bounties  you  scatter  around, 
With  a  hand  that  seemingly  never  will  tire, 
Will  secure  you  a  home  where  the  bless'd  will  be  found, 
For  who  to  that  goal  if  not  you,  may  aspire  ? 

What  tho'  foul  ingratitude's  venomous  sting 
Would  rob  you  of  honors  you  duly  have  won  ; 

There  are  thousands  of  hearts  your  praises  that  sing, 
That  know  not  one-half  the  good  deeds  you  have  done. 

The  wretched  for  charity  never  can  plead 
And  advice  and  relief  not  receive  at  your  door, 

A  tale  of  distress  will  make  your  heart  bleed, 
'Till  the  burden  is  lightened,  and  peace  you  restore. 

To-day  'tis  the  wretchedly  poor  you  receive, 
Who  with  smiles  and  rejoicings  are  sent  on  their  way, 

On  the  morrow  an  unfortunate  friend  you  relieve, 
Whose  soul  again  gladdens  with  hope's  cheering  ray. 

If  this  world  was  but  filled  with  such  hearts  as  your  own, 
All  sorrow  and  sadness  would  change  into  bliss  ; 

And  nothing  but  sunshine  and  joy  would  be  known — 
Indeed,  we  could  wish  for  no  heaven  but  this. 


f  o  |>s.  f  n. 


||H  MY  dear  Mrs.  V., 
Take  pity  on  me, 


Your  disconsolate  next-door  neighbor  ; 
What  will  we  all  do, 
When  we  have  lost  you  ? — 

I'll  run  myself  thro'  with  a  sabre. 


Delighting  the  ear, 

Is  the  music  we  hear, 
That  comes  thro'  the  walls  that  divide  us; 

Those  dainties  you  send, 

All — all  must  now  end, 
And  Old  Nick  may  live  there  beside  us  ! 

When  summer  again 

Is  decking  the  plain, 
Our  flowers,  oh  !  who  will  then  praise  them  ? 

Sweet  Williams  and  roses, 

And  various  posies — 
By  heavens  !  I  don't  think  I'll  raise  them  ! 


NEPTUNE'S  DUES. 

And  Mr.  V.'s  chickens, 
Whose  bountiful  pickings, 

As  aldermen  made  them  as  fat  ; 
The  delightful  old  crow, 
Of  the  rooster,  you  know — 

'Tis  hard  to  be  deprived  of  all  that. 

Well,  if  you  must  go, 

We'd  have  you  to  know, 
Our  best  wTishes,  truly,  we  give  you. 

And,  joking  aside, 

May  joy  betide, 
And  happiness  ever  be  with  you. 


[N  the  superb  steamer,  Wyanoke, 


jBisafll    Where  many  a  bright  eye  gleam'd, 
For  New  York  bound— from  Norfolk's  port, 
At  10  P.  M.  we  steam'd. 

Our  captain  (Bo wen)  was  comme  ilfaut, 

As  the  quarter  deck  he  paced  ; 
With  kindly  word  and  gallant  mien, 

So  well  his  ship  he  graced. 


EPTUNE'S 


NEPTUNE'S  DUES. 


The  atmosphere  was  balmy, 

The  skies,  they  were  serene; 
The  darkling  waters  in  the  night, 

With  phosphoresence  gleam. 

The  sumptuous  board — the  night  we  sail, 

The  passengers  surround  ; 
When  greetings,  smiles,  and  happy  looks, 

And  merry  jests  go  round. 

At  length  to  state  rooms  they  retire, 

Soon  sinking  to  repose, 
Without  a  thought  of  what  they  were, — 

Those  tin  things  near  the  nose. 

The  morn  arrives — the  board  again 

With  viands,  rich,  is  spread; 
Why  is  it,  now,  so  few  are  here, 

So  many  still  in  bed  ? 

And  why  do  some  now  seated  here, 

So  ghastly  look,  the  while  ; 
Then  start,  and  seek  the  open  air, 

With  such  unearthly  smile  ? 

Ha  !  ha  !  old  Father  Neptune  'tis, 

Taking  the  bill  of  fare ; 
And  every  land-lubber  who  sails, 

Must  pay  a  tribute  there. 

A  Victim. 


ORTRESS  ffoNROE. 

no !  I  shall  never  forget  it, 
Thro'  life,  wheresoever  I  go  ; 
I'm  sure  I  shall  never  regret  it — 
That  visit  to  Fortress  Monroe. 

We  left  the  good  ship,  for  the  steamer, 

After  breakfasting  only  so-so ; 
Up  at  five — what  an  hour  for  a  dreamer — 

To  turn  out  for  Fortress  Monroe. 

So  brightly  the  sunbeams  did  quiver, 

The  waters  were  all  of  a  glow; 
As  zepher  just  ruffled  the  river, 

While  we  steamed  down  to  Fortress  Monroe. 

Thro'  the  streets  of  the  village  we  wander, 
The  boughs  of  the  fig-trees  below; 

We  pluck  the  ripe  fruit,  and  we  wonder 
They  should  grow  here,  at  Fortress  Monroe. 

The  general  receives  us  politely, 
While  sweetly  the  music  did  flow; 

The  recruits,  with  maneuvers  so  sprightly, 
Keeping  time — down  at  Fortress  Monroe. 


FORTRESS  MONROE. 


The  live  oaks  are  flourishing  o'er  us, 
And  darkly  their  shadows  do  throw; 

The  birds  joining  in  with  the  chorus 
Of  the  band,  down  at  Fortress  Monroe. 

Escorting  us  over  the  station, 
The  arms  and  munitions  to  show  ; 

The  biggest  gun  in  all  creation, 
We  saw  there,  at  Fortress  Monroe. 

To  the  general's  abode  now  retiring, 
Where  refreshments  they  freely  bestow ; 

The  surroundings  and  garden  admiring, 
Quite  charm'd  we're  with  Fortress  Monroe. 

The  hour  for  departure  arriving, 
With  adieus  and  good  wishes  we  go ; 

A  bright  dream  of  memory's  hiving, 
Seems  that  visit  to  Fortress  Monroe. 


jng|l  are  well !  and  where  e'er  thro' life's  journey  you  stray, 
IB^SiH    Kindred  hearts  that  respond  to  your  own  when  you 
Will  you  linger  a  moment  along  your  bright  way,  [find, 
To  think  of  the  friends  you  are  leaving  behind  ? 

Alas  !  how  oft  friendship  will  lose  its  warm  glow, 
When  the  dark  clouds  of  absence  o'ershadow  the  ray; 

As  the  bright  flowers  of  summer  no  longer  will  blow, 
When  autumn  has  taken  their  sunshine  away. 

Sometimes  we  will  meet  in  our  wanderings  thro'  life, 
A  soul,  that  it  seems,  we  forever  have  known, 

But  had  lost  in  the  season  of  turmoil  and  strife, 
And  again  have  recover' d  to  claim  as  our  own. 

Should  fate  intervene  and  ordain  we  must  part, 
So  rude  is  the  shock  that  we  feel,  and  severe ; 

It  seems  as  tho'  joy  was  forsaking  the  heart, 
With  the  last  farewell,  as  it  dies  on  the  ear. 


I'Ej&l  LLA  in  that  laughing  eye, 
Ussa    Cupid's  lances  I  descry; 
In  the  meshes  of  your  hair 
I  see  the  urchin  lurking  there ; 
With  the  dimples  of  your  cheek, 
He  is  playing  hide  and  seek ; 
While  your  pouting  lip  he  kisses, 
And  revels  in  a  sea  of  blisses. 
What  can  we  poor  mortals  do, 
Now  the  God  possesses  you  ? 
Surely  we  must  fast  and  pray, 
While  he  banquets  every  day; 
Would  you  grant  one  kiss  to  me, 
How  transported  I  should  be  ! 


f  HE  |lNG. 


[Written  in  the  year,  1870.] 


j|OOD  people,  I  sing  of  this  famous  old  Ring, 
They  are  harping  about  in  the  papers; 
If  you  believe  what  is  said,  it  is  raising  old  Ned, 
And  cutting  up  all  sorts  of  capers. 
So  it  is  ! 


We'll  take  them  to  task ;  some  questions  we'll  ask, 
Which  if  they're  true  men,  they  will  answer; 

And  if  they  are  not,  may  they  all  go  to  pot, 
As  the  Frenchmen  are  doing  in  France  sir. 
That's  what's  the  matter  ! 


Come,  tell  us  Big  Six,  how  you're  coining  your  bricks, 

Don't  think  that  I  wish  to  be  witty; 
But  between  I  and  you,  it  is  certainly  true, 

You're  phlebotomizing  this  city. 
Thou  shalt  not  steal ! 


94 


THE  RING. 


For  polticing  streets,  those  swinging  receipts, 
Pray  tell  us  who  pockets  the  tin,  sir  ? 

The  victims  declare,  you  get  your  full  share, 
While  they're  polticed  outside  and  in,  sir. 
Pretty  thick ! 

Peter,  pray  tell,  was  that  interest  a  sell, 
Were  you  doing  it  just  for  a  blind  ? 

Or  making  amends,  for  a  host  of  your  friends, 
Who  were  gobbling  up  all  they  could  find, 
In  an  official  way  ? 

Mickey  Mc'Grind,  with  his  shirt  out  behind, 

When  first  he  arrived  in  this  city, 
Set  up  a  gin  mill  and  a  contraband  still, 

And  now  he's  the  Honorable  Mickey. 
Bully  boy. 

Harry  Genet,  where  did  you  get 
The  Soap  for  the  house  you're  erecting; 

Was  it  fighting  the  Ring,  last  winter  and  spring, 
And  then  their  best  offer  accepting  ? 
Do  tell ! 

Jimmy  O'Brien,  why  did  you  try  on, 
Against  father  Tammany  kicking  ? 

Tou  soon  found  you  sap,  losing  your  pap ; — 
You  had  nothing  but  dry  bones  for  picking* 
Poor  Jimmy ! 


THE  RING. 


Mayor  0.  Hall,  in  your  speech  last  fall, 
You  say  nothing  of  millions  expended; 

Please  tell  us  where  we  taxpayers  will  be, 
By  the  time  these  assessments  have  ended  ? 
Ancillary  do  ? 

For  a  city  improvement  at  once,  there's  a  movement, 

If — if  there's  plenty  of  corn  on  the  cob  ; 
If  not,  it  may  lay  till  the  judgement  day, 

For  nobody  touches  the  job. 

"  You  know  how  it  is  yourself." 

Oh  !  for  the  days,  when  honor's  bright  rays, 

Illumined  the  heads  of  the  State ; 
'Ere  government  was  made  a  rascally  trade, — 

When  men  could  afford  to  be  great. 
Let  us  pray ! 


f  HE  §  RADE  TO  §  EARN. 

Air — The  Wearing  of  The  Green. 
[Written  Dec.  30th,  1870.] 

AID  Tom  to  me  one  summer's  day,. 
Keposing  in  the  shade; 
"  Old  fellow,  as  my  funds  are  low, 

I'm  going  to  start  a  trade; 
I'll  lie,  and  cheat,  and  plunder  too, 

For,  money  and  position," 
"  Why  Tom,"  cried  I,  "you  want  to  be, 
A  city  politician." 

There's  many  a  one,  ten  years  ago, 

Who  was  not  worth  a  cent; 
Could  scarcely  get  enough  to  eat, 

And  pay  his  monthly  rent, 
Now  counts  his  millions,  keeps  his  coach, 

His  servants  and  all  that, 
And  cruises  where  he  pleases, 

In  his  splendid  steamer  yacht. 


TO 


Buy  out  a  corner  rum-hole  Tom, 

Treat  the  Bowery  boys; 
Kill  two  or  three  policemen, 

To  make  a  little  noise, 
Next  you  run  for  alderman, 

You're  sure  to  win  the  race, 
For  Tammany  endorses  you, 

As  just  fit  for  the  place. 

And  now  with  your  resources, 

You're  bound  to  make  a  raise, 
With  Sweeny,  Tweed  and  company, 

To  flourish  all  your  days ; 
Now  as  a  great  philanthropist, 

You  sound  the  trump  of  fame, 
Give  one  week's  pickings  to  the  poor, 

And  immortalize  your  name. 


||EED  you  ask  what  I  wish, 
Sure  my  eyes,  they  disclose 
The  secret,  and  that  without  blinking ; 

The  tongue  would  not  dare — 
0,  no — the  Lord  knows, 
A  glance  will  betray  all  we're  thinking. 


||RE  you  good  at  the  language  of  eyes  ? 

Look  in  mine,  you  will  there  see  my  wishes; 
My  glances  as  well  as  my  sighs, 

Say — "I  want  to  devour  you  with  kisses." 


HOULD  you  ask  my  desire, 
Or  what  I  require, 
The  tongue  would  not  dare  to  disclose  it ; 
Perhaps  it  might  chance, 
The  eyes  in  a  glance, 
Innocently,  thus  would  expose  it. 


NE  OF  THE  POYS. 


TELL  you,  I'm  one  of  the  boys  ! 
I  was  four  years  old  last  June, 
I  can  make  a  considerable  noise, 

And  you  bet !  I  can  sing  you  a  tune, 
Fol  de  rol  riddle  rol  ri  do  ! 


These  petticoats  won't  do  for  me, 
I  can  tell  you,  much  longer,  mamma; 

'Tis  trowsers  I  want,  do  you  see  ? 
And  perhaps  I  will  smoke  a  segar, 
Fol  de  rol  riddle  rol  ri  do  ! 


I'm  thinking  of  sparking  the  girls, 

And  petticoats  are  not  the  go ; 
There's  Mamie  Bross  with  her  bright  curls, 

I  think  I'll  take  her  for  my  beau, 
Fol  de  rol  riddle  rol  ri  do  ! 


I  tell  you  I'm  one  of  the  boys, 
Believe  me,  I'm  going  to  try, 

To  cut  a  dash — petticoats  smash, 
Sport  top  boots,  smoke  cheroots — 

How  is  that  for  high  ? 

Fol  de  rol  riddle  rol  ri  do  ! 


Blind  |rook. 

N"CE  more  upon  the  old  familiar  spot, 
Which  now,  alas!  has  past  to  stranger  hands, 
After  an  absence  of  long  years,  I  gaze; — 
The  ancient  farm-house  with  its  time  stain'd  front 
Is  standing  as  of  old. 

But  the  huge  weeping  willow  at  the  entrance  gate 

With  the  old  master,  now  has  past  away, 

Without  a  trace  to  tell  where  once  its  branches  waved. 

Upon  the  road  and  lawn,  yet  stand  as  sentinels, 

Those  giant  locusts  whose  rugged  trunks 

Have  swayed  the  stormy  blasts 

Of  four  score  years  or  more. 

Here  as  each  summer  vacation, 

Most  impatiently  longed  for  arrived, 

A  happy  boy,  with  wild  delight  I  left 

My  books,  the  noise  and  glamour  of  the  busy  city, 

To  revel  in  the  luxury  of  this  rustia  home. 

Received  with  welcomes  kind  from  many  friends, 

The  uncle,  aunt  and  cousins, 

Who  warmly  their  young  visitor  received; 

Greeted  by  the  perfume  of  the  fresh  mown  meadows, 

The  birds  wild  notes,  the  lowing  kine, 

The  brawling  brooklet,  and  the  myriad 

Eural  sounds  which  charm  the  city  ear. 


BLIND  BROOK. 


101 


Scarce  would  an  hour  elapse, 

Ere  with  eager  steps  I'd  hasten  on 

To  look  again  upon  the  winding  brook, 

That  of  my  thoughts  had  been  the  truant  theme, 

Of  many  an  ill  spent  school  time  hour. 

To  rove  its  grassy  banks  along, 

Where  grew  the  pungent  water-mint, 

Whose  perfume  now,  my  nostril  never  greets 

But  quick  it  brings  the  old  brook  back  to  me, 

In  all  its  turns  and  windings  as  of  yore. 

The  banks  here,  high  and  steep, 

There,  sloping  to  the  water's  edge, 

The  little  islands  with  swamp  willows  crowned, 

Whose  brilliant  yellow  green,  the  distance  makes 

A  golden  sea  of  flowers. 

Still  further  on,  darkly  drooping, 

The  sombre  hemlock  towers  above  the  stream, 

Reflected  in  the  chrystal  depths  below. 

Here  oft  with  rod  of  birch 

And  primitive  line  of  twisted  tow, 

I  lured  the  eager  chub,  the  sunfish  and  the  silver-side, 

And  with  exultant  shout  cast  them  out 

Flopping  on  the  burning  sand. 

Returning  with  my  catch  at  sound  of 

Dinner  horn,  to  find  the  old  watch  dog 

Away  from  sultry  noontide  beams, 

Stretching  himself  along  the  shady  north  side, 

To  doze  the  bright  long  hours  away. 

Where  oft  with  smother'd  bark  and  working  limbs, 

In  fancy  he  pursues  the  rabbit,  skunk  or  woodchuck, 


BLIND  BhOOK. 


And  dreaming,  thus  sonis  by-gone  chase  resumes. 

Can  I  forget  "  Deep  Hole  " 

Where  first  I  learn'd  to  swim, 

After  innumerable  half  drownings, 

Chokings,  gaspings  and  struggles — 

Down  to  the  very  bottom  striking  and  kicking, 

Holding  my  breath  the  while, 

Expecting  each  moment  when 

Some  lurking  monster  of  the  deep, — 

A  water  snake  or  snapping  turtle, 

Would  seize  me  for  his  prey? 

'Tis  strange,  yet  to  this  day 

Tho'  fond  of  swimming  as  a  water  rat, 

A  nameless  dread  will  overcome  me  quite 

If  once  beyond  my  depth  I  chance  to  get, 

That  causes  me  again  to  strike  for  shore, 

As  if  Old  Scratch  himself  was  after  me. 


Unfathomable. 


||HINK  not,  my  love  a  passing  dream, 
As  changing  as  the  skies; 
Or  wanton  as  the  vagrant  bee's 
As  in  a  flower  he  lies. 


O  !  deem  it  not  a  fading  flower, 
That  blossoms  but  to  die; 

Or  shallow  as  a  mountain  stream, 
A  summer's  sun  will  dry. 


But  deem  it  fervid  as  the  sun, 
As  boundless  as  the  sea; 

As  wide  as  are  the  worlds  above, 
In  their  immensity. 


Resignation. 


I^Sj  H  !  when  I  am  with  you  my  heart  is  all  gladness, 

So  brightly  and  quickly  time  passes  away ; 
But  now  you  are  going,  my  grief  and  my  sadness, 
In  spite  of  my  efforts,  I  clearly  betray. 

It  seems  when  my  heart  feels  such  anguish  at  parting, 
That  the  blisses  of  love  are  o'er  balanced  by  woe ; 

But  again  when  we  meet  and  the  joy — tears  are  starting. 
Such  raptures  no  heart  but  a  lover's  can  know. 

Tho'  we  part,  I'll  endeavor,  my  sorrows  to  smother, 
Remembering  I'll  soon  be  united  to  you; 

Secure,  tho'  away  you'll  not  smile  on  another, 
While  you  know  that  I  love  you,  so  fondly  and  true. 


fo 


I H  !  sad,  love,  and  dreary, 
Our  parting  will  be ; 
For  the  hours  seem  most  weary, 
When  absent  from  thee. 


I  strive  to  be  cheerful, 
When  thou  art  away ; 

But  the  heart  that  is  fearful, 
Can  never  be  gay. 

Daily  I'll  number, 

The  hours  of  thy  stay, 

Oh  !  would  I  could  slumber, 
The  dull  hours  away. 

I'll  pray  when  in  sadness, 
My  eyes  do  o'erflow; 

That  only  with  gladness, 
Thy  bright  orbs  may  glow. 


106 


TO 


And  yet  not  too  airy, 
I'd  have  thee  the  while; 

Sometimes,  Oh!  be  chary, 
Of  glances  and  smiles. 

And  hope  shall  support  me, 

I  will  not  repine; 
While  thy  dear  lines  report  me, 

Thy  heart  is  still  mine. 

I'll  think  of  the  meeting, 
When  heart  close  to  heart , 

In  the  transports  of  greeting, 
Each  doubt  shall  depart. 


§  0  1|0SETTA. 


j|H !  Cupid's  dart  has  pierced  my  heart, 
From  your  bright  eyes  he  shot  it ; 
Then  yours  I  asked  to  heal  the  smart, 
The  time — have  you  forgot  it? 


No  maid  so  fair  that  will  compare 
With  you  my  sweet  Rosetta, 

And  every  day  I  do  declare 
I  think  I  love  you  better. 

'Mid  roses  sweet  that  flush  your  cheek, 
The  charming  dimples  sporting; 

Seem  to  be  playing  hide  and  seek, 
Each  sunny  smile  a  courting. 

Come  press  to  mine  those  lips  of  thine, 

Thy  kisses  are  far  sweeter 
Than  nectar  drank  by  gods  divine, 

Or  saints  like  Simon  Peter. 


EAREST,  don  thy  robe  of  snow, 
Crown  thy  brows  with  garlands  gay, 
Let  thy  cheeks  with  roses  glow ; — 
Welcome  to  our  wedding  day. 


Now  I  claim  thee  for  my  bride, 
And  vow  to  love  thee  ever  more , 

Thro'  life's  journey  as  we  glide, 
Till  its  fleeting  pulse  is  o'er. 

Calmly  as  a  summer  sea 

Reflecting  Heaven's  brightest  ray; 
Loving  and  beloved  by  thee, 

Time  will  sweetly  glide  away. 


fflGHT  f  APS. 


I H  !  I  dream'd  last  night,  I  got  so  very  tight, 
A  friend  had  to  carry  me  to  bed ; 
But  the  worst  of  the  joke,  was  this  morning  when  I  woke, 
With  a  devil  of  a  pain  in  the  head — head — head — 
An  excruciating  pain  in  the  head  ! 


I  thought  with  a  friend,  I  went  on  a  bend, 
That  we  made  around  a  thousand  calls — about ; 
But  what  we  did  it  for,  or  why  I  am  so  sore, 
Hang  it !  if  I'm  able  to  make  out — out — out — 
'Tis  a  mystery  I  never  shall  make  out ! 


I  feel  quite  indisposed,  one  eye  is  tightly  closed, 

While  my  nose  is  in  a  pitiable  plight ; 

I  hope  I  may  be  shot,  but  I  think  I  must  have  got, 

In  my  sleep  somehow  or  other  in  a  fight — fight — fight — 

Somnambulistically  in  a  fight ! 


I  happen'd  just  to  pass,  before  a  looking-glass, 

O,  thunder  !  bless  me!  what's  that  on  my  head  ? 

Ruffled  all  round— a  night-cap  I'll  be  bound, 

"  Beyond  a  doubt  I'm  luny,— then  I  said— said— said— 

Who  does  this  belong  to  ?"  I  said. 


110 


MICKEY  McCOY. 


Now  all  you  clever  sparks,  who  are  given  to  skylarks, 
Whether  Susan  Janes;  or  Carolines,  or  Kates; 
Let  the  feminines  go  by — don't  take  too  much  old  rye, 
And  their  vanities  won't  ride  your  fuddled  pates — pates — 
Their  night-caps  won't  be  mounting  on  your  pates,  [pates. 


flCKEY  fc§0Y. 

UKE  I'm  Mickey  McCoy 
And  a  broth  of  a  boy, 
I  can  handle  a  stick  now  wid  any ; 
I  was  born  in  a  bog, 
Where  there's  nary  a  frog, 
Hard  by  the  famed  town  of  Killkenny. 

I  went  to  the  wars, 

Where  I  won  great  applause, 
For  fighting  so  bravely  and  steady; 

A  Frenchman  I'd  stop, 

And  his  foot  off,  I'd  chop, 
His  head,  it  was  shot  off  already. 

One  day  I  was  there, 
When  whack  thro'  the  air, 


MICKEY  McCOY. 


Came  screaming  a  shell  like  the  di vil ; 

"By  St.  Patrick"  cried  I, 

"  I'll  bid  you  good-bye, 
The  blackguards  are  getting  uncivil. " 

So  I  turned  on  my  heel, 

To  avoid  their  cold  steel, 
Making  tracks  for  the  bogs  of  Killkenny; 

Where  thro'  long  winter  nights, 

I  brag  of  my  fights, 
Of  the  dirty  French,  murdering  so  many. 

Now  I  drink  when  I'm  dry, 

And  why  shouldn't  I  ? 
^Tis  myself  that  is  gallant  and  friskey; 

Och  hone  ! 

I'm  as  dry  as  a  bone, 
Give  me  a  sup  of  the  whiskey  ! 


LD  OCEAN. 


||H,  my  dear  Mrs.  Davis  !  do  tell, 

Have  you  thought  it  all  over  now,  well  V 
What  makes  you  do  so  ? 
Why  to  sea  will  you  go, 
To  be  tossed  by  the  billows  pell-mell  ? 


You'll  be  sea-sick  as  sure  as  you  live  ! 

If  you're  not,  I'll  a  big  apple  give, 

Your  poor  head  I'll  be  bound, 

Like  a  top  will  spin  round, 

With  your  stomach  as  weak  as  a  sieve  ! 


At  night  when  you  get  in  your  berth, 

Lord  !  how  you  will  long  for  dry  earth; 

As  you  lie  on  your  bed, 

To  be  stood  on  your  head, 

Do  you  think  'twill  excite  you  to  mirth  ? 

And  then  if  there  comes  up  a  squall — 

(There  is  nothing  more  likely  at  all !) 

'Mid  the  tumult  and  roar, 

To  be  pitched  on  the  floor, 

Or  rolling  right  up  the  side  wall. 


ON  A  DISH  OF  FRIED  FLOUNDERS. 


113 


And  pray  tell,  on  what  will  you  dine? 

The  viands  no  doubt,  will  be  fine; 

With  a  stomach  so  batter'd, 

So  disgusted  and  shattered, 

A  ragout  will  be  nice  with  your  wine. 

Then  dear  Mrs.  Davis  do  tell, 

Have  you  thought  it  all  over  now,  well? 

What  makes  you  do  so, 

Why  to  sea  will  you  go  ? 

I  tell  you,  Old  Ocean's  a  sell! 


N  A  fflSH  OF  jjRIED  ffLOUNDERS 

FLOUNDER  fish,  is  a  capital  dish, 
If  you've  nothing  better  to  eat; 
I  don't  care  a  button  for  your  chops  of  mutton, — 
A  porter-house  steak  is  the  meat. 


The  way  to  prepare,  is  to  broil  quite  rare, 
Then  spread  it  with  butter  that's  sweet; 

Well  season  now,  and  you'll  allow, 
This  steak  is  a  stunner  to  beat. 


§|y  §ream. 


H!  I  dream'd  last  night  of  my  younger  days, 
When  on  Broadway  the  fashions  I  sported; 
When  bright  eyes  cast  upon  me  their  sunnyest  rays. 
And  by  glances  and  smiles  I  was  courted. 


I  thought,  as  one  day  I  was  strolling  along 
The  pave,  decked  with  beauties  entrancing, 

I  espied  a  fair  creature,  amid  the  gay  throng, 
With  the  face  of  an  angel,  advancing. 

I  thought  that  her  eyes — of  a  deep  azure  blue, 
'Neath  dark  fringes  were  modestly  beaming; 

When  she  raised  them,  the  glance  as  of  sunbeam  they 
Wounded  my  heart  past  redeeming.  [threwT, 

I  thought  that  she  smiled  as  she  saw  my  fixed  gaze, 
And  it  seemed  as  if  heaven  was  dawning; 

As  bright  was  the  smile  as  Sol's  golden  rays, 
When  a  June  sky  he  wakes  in  the  morning. 

I  thought  that  she  spoke,  and  her  voice  was  as  sweet 
As  the  first  bird's  of  spring,  in  its  numbers, 

Or  the  harp  that  in  childhood  had  lulled  me  to  sleep, 
When  by  zephyrs  awakened  from  slumbers. 

I  thought  that  we  strolled  arm  in  arm  down  the  street, 

I,  the  envy  of  every  beholder; 
I  awoke,  promenading  the  room  in  a  sheet, 

With  a  pillow  tucked  under  my  shoulder. 


She  giGAR. 


||H0'  they've  sung  in  the  praises  of  women  and 
Both  here  and  in  regions  afar,  [wine, 
And  men  in  all  ages  declare  them  divine, 
Yet  they're  naught  to  the  fragrant  cigar. 

So  soothing  it  is,  at  the  close  of  the  day, 

Casting  business  and  troubles  afar : 
Each  puff  seems  to  hurry  some  sorrow  away, 

On  the  smoke  of  your  cheerful  cigar. 

If  a  coldness  is  seen  in  the  friend  that  you  prize, 
And  suspicion  your  friendship  would  mar ; 

The  cloud  that  depresses,  at  once  will  arise, 
With  the  smoke  of  the  friendly  cigar. 

If  at  night  you  return  to  your  home  in  a  pet, 

In  the  mood  for  a  family  jar, 
If  rid  of  the  blue  devils  quickly  you'd  get, 

Blow  a  cloud  from  the  cheering  cigar. 

Tho'  fortune  deserts  you,  and  friendships  decay, 

Tho'  fate  seems  every  joy  to  debar, 
Yet  still  you  may  brighten  life's  glimmering  ray 

By  the  aid  of  the  magic  cigar. 


TO 


f  HE  loSE. 


[[WAS — some  one,  who  gave  me  this  rose, 
With  perfume  so  deliciously  sweet, 
It  can  only  be  rivall'd  by  those, 
Which  bloom  on  her  beautiful  cheek. 

I'm  sure  'tis  for  me  to  decide, 

For  I've  gather'd  them  there  with  delight, 
If  she  saw  this  I'm  certain  she'd  chide, 

And  declare  that  she  thought  'twas  not  right. 


I 


|WO  years  have  past  since  first  we  met, 
Two  years  this  coming  June; 
How  well  do  I  remember  yet, 
That  summer  afternoon. 

Methmks  I  see  thee  seated  now, 

That  open  window  by ; 
With  blushing  cheek  and  polished  brow, 

And  modest  beaming  eye. 


TO 


117 


Thy  joyous  laugh  again  I  hear, 

That  dimpled  smile  I  see; 
I  then  dream'd  not,  thy  smile  would  e'er 

Become  so  dear  to  me. 

I  call  to  mind  the  sparkling  wit, 

That  without  effort  played; 
And  how  I  thought  thy  form  was  fit 

To  grace  a  Persian  maid. 

And  may  my  days  in  sorrow^  set, 

Ere  life  has  spent  its  bloom; 
If  e'er  I  cause  thee  to  regret 

That  summer  afternoon. 


|HEN  evening  shades  obscure  the  day, 
And  love's  own  star  I  see; 
Tho'  from  thy  side  I'm  far  away, 
My  thoughts  are  all  of  thee. 

And  when  the  moon  her  silvery  beams ; 

Throws  o'er  the  silent  night; 
My  heart  is  filled  with  waking  dreams, 

Of  thee  its  sole  delight. 


118 


TO  MY  WIFE. 


There's  not  a  breeze  that  passes  by, 
Unburden'd  goes  from  me ; 

And  every  throb,  and  every  sigh, 
Belongs  alone  to  thee. 


^HO'  passion's  wild  romance  is  o'er, 
;   That  in  possession  faded, 
And  love  can  ne'er  again  restore 
The  dream  by  time  invaded, — 
My  little  wife,  I  love  thee  still, 
The  charm  is  yet  about  me ! 
And  tho'  I  sometimes  use  thee  ill, 
I  could  not  live  without  thee ! 


Uet  us  be  Say. 


IET  us  be  gay, 
Youth's  but  a  flower, 
It  lives  for  a  day, 

It  blooms  for  an  hour. 
Let  us  be  gay, 

Sorrows  will  come, 
Joys  fleet  away 
Ere  they've  begun. 

Let  us  be  gay, 

Grief  will  not  last ; 
Time  will  convey 

Them  quick  to  the  past. 
Let  us  be  gay, 

You  love  and  I, 
Laughing  away 

Each  tear  and  each  sigh. 

Let  us  be  gay, 

With  spirits  as  light 
As  zephyrs  that  play 

On  a  warm  summer's  night. 


ACROSTIC. 


Let  us  be  gay 

While  youth  is  yet  oursT 
And  cull,  while  we  may, 

Sweets  from  way  flowers. 

Let  us  be  gay, 

Let  us  be  glad, 
With  age  and  decay 

Tis  time  to  be  sad. 


HcROSTIC 


VER  constant  is  the  sun, 
I    Unchanging  still  his  course  is  run 
Resting  neither  night  or  day, 
Ever  coursing  on  his  way; — 
True  to  love,  oh,  may  I  be! 
True  to  love,  and  true  to  thee — 
As  constant  and  as  warm  as  he. 


J,NNERBELLER  ftuRDE 


A  DOLEFUL  BALLAD. 
Aiv — "  REPENT  YE  BUMMERS." 


ATTENTION  all  ye  damsels,  wives  and  widors. 
Ye  bloomers,  woman's  rights,  and  all  combin'd, 
No  matter  what's  the  matter — what's  your  station,  — 
No  matter  what  you  be — be  resigned. 

Ye  feminies  and  neutrals  all  harken, 

I'll  take  my  affidavit,  'pon  my  word  ! 
Which  it  happen'd  in  this  town  to  my  knowledge, 

Which  her  name  it  was  Annerbeller  Burde. 

A  particularly  fascinating  female, 

With  a  reputation  chalked  up  to  A  1 ; 
To  a  pastry  shop  she  hired  out  for  a  living, 

Which  obligated  her  to  be  undone. 

Ye  Gods,  now  what  in  thunder  were  you  doing, 
Why  did'nt  you  protect  this  lamb  from  guile  ? 

That  move  you  knew  would  lead  to  an  explosion, 
You  chunkheads  you — you  knew  it  all  the  while. 


ANNERBELLER  BURDE. 


A  biler  busts  and  many  blow'd  to  blazes, 
Are  scattered  round  in  fragments  fearful  small,. 

There  chances  one,  who  saves  his  precious  baconr 
"  How  providential ! "  is  the  cry  of  all. 

O,  what  was  it,  deluded  Annerbeller — 
Was  it  providential,  chance,  or  fate,  or  what? 

She  might  have  had  another  sitivation, 
Where  bam-boo-zel-ed  she  would  not  have  got. 

Which  was  loafing  every  evening  on  the  corner, 
A  slick  young  man — a  pious  look  had  he ; 

Was  he  eyeing  juicy  muttons  in  the  windore  ? 
Was  he  ogleing  of  Annerbeller  B.  ? 

One  evening,  by  the  counter,  munching  peanuts,. 

She  stood,  when  lo!  he  popped  inside  the  door; 
He  'low'd  he'd  heard  a  deal  about  her  muttons — 

Then  sampled  one — then  sampled  numbers  more. 

He  looked  so  meek,  and  talk'd  so  mild  and  pious, 

But  heavens !  how  he  bolts  them  mutton  pies, 
Her  cookies,  crullers,  what-nots  and  turn-overs; 
.  Struck  dumb,  the  damsel  gazed  in  mute  surprise. 

A  brand  he  said  he  pluck'd  was  from  the  burning, 
His  soul  no  more  on  earthly  joys  to  fix; 

Then  with  her  last  turn-over  he  departed — 

' '  Geld !  geld !"  she  cried,  '  'mine  got  he's  goot  fir  nix. " 


iR^S  OME  lads  fill  away,  why  should  we  delay, 
JfeSsal    To  banish  all  sorrow  and  troubles ; 
Who  would  not  delight  to  be  with  us  to-night, 

And  leave  this  dull  earth  and  its  struggles? 
Let  the  old  fogies  rail,  and  with  arguments  stale 

Find  fault  with  the  glow  of  our  glasses ; 
By  vapors  thus  moved,  they  long  ago  proved 

Themselves  most  egregious  asses. 
Then  lads  fill  away,  &c. 


A  bumper  around  to  these  sages  profound, 

We  envy  them  not  their  potations; 
One  brimmer  like  this  is,  excites  more  to  blisses, 

Than  seas  of  such  watery  rations, 
Then  lads  fill  away,  why  should  we  delay 

To  banish  all  sorrow  and  troubles ; 
Who  would  not  delight,  to  be  with  us  to-night, 

And  leave  this  dull  earth  and  its  struggles? 


Reverie. 


I NE  morning  in  Spring  when  all  nature  was  smiling, 
And  blossoms  were  shedding  perfumes  o'er  the  lea, 
While  the  birds  with  their  songs  the  bright  hours  were  be- 
I  musingly  sat  'neath  a  wide  spreading  tree.  [guiling. 

The  spring  time  of  life  I  compared  to  the  flowers, 
For  it  blossoms  as  brightly  and  sweetly  as  they; 

Tis  warmed  by  the  sunshine  and  sprinkled  with  showers, 
That  but  for  a  moment  their  shadows  betray. 

And  does  it  not  too  like  the  roses  soon  wither, 
A  few  fleeting  seasons — and  then  comes  decay ; 

Old  age  is  the  winter  that  chills  it  forever, 
And  steals  all  its  beauty  and  freshness  away. 


Retrospective. 


HEN  life  was  yet  young, 
I  With  a  flattering  tongue 
I  beguiled  a  young  maiden  so  cheery; 
I  vow'd  that  the  spring 
JSTot  a  blossom  should  bring, 
When  I  did  prove  false  to  my  deary. 


But  love  is  a  boy 
So  exacting  and  coy, 

That  of  him  I  soon  'gan  to  weary; 
I  hurried  away 
From  her  cottage  one  day, 

And  jilted  my  poor  little  deary. 

I  have  roam'd  the  world  wide, 
And  its  pleasures  have  tried, 

But  have  tasted  to  find  they  soon  weary; 
And  often  I  sigh 
With  the  mist  in  my  eye, 

When  I  think. what  I  lost  with  my  deary. 


f  HE  IgUMPKINVILLE  §Je.WS. 

(TO  BE  SUNG  IN  YANKEE  COSTUME.) 

S"B||S  OLKS,  I've  just  arrived  in  town, 

[gjjjjfl]    Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 

From  Pumpkinville  this  evening  down, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural  ! 
The  elephantus  for  to  see, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural  ! 
Cousin  Zachariah  Sliadpole  invited  me, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural  ! 
Zeke,  says  he,  do  tell  the  news, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural  ! 
And  he  squinted  at  my  squeaky  shoes, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural  ! 
I  told  him  how  in  Pumpkinville, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
The  weather  was  uncommon  chill, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
That  Hannah  Jane  had  caught  the  mumps, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 


THE  PUM PKTN VILLE  NE IV S 

And  pa  and  ma  were  in  the  dumps, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
That  Zephaniah  was  courtin'  Sue, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural  ! 
And  Lemuel  he  was  looking  blue, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural  ! 
Parson  Spruce  had  run  away, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
With  Dorcus  Jones  and  Cynthy  Gray, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
Patience  Drybones  wears  a  wig, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
Our  old  sow  has  nary  pig, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural  ! 
Deacon  Squaretoe's  took  to  drink, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
Ruth  refused  him — so  they  think, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural  ! 
Widow  Grim  has  jined  the  church, 

Tural  tural,  tural  lural ! 
The  new  school-marm  lays  on  the  birch, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural  ! 
Brindle's  about  drying  up, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural  ! 
Rachel's  canine's  got  a  pup, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
Peaceful  Thanks  has  had  a  fight, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural  ! 
And  got  laid  eout — it  served  him  right, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 


THE  PUMPKINVILLE  NEWS. 


Towser  chawed  our  Thomas  cat, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
Sol  and  Judith  had  a  spat, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
Long-tail  squash  are  scarce  this  year, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
Garden  sass  is  dreadful  dear, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
Tildy  had  a  sewin  bee, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
O  gravy!  she's  so  sweet  on  me, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural !  * 
Jemimey's  baby's  got  red  hair, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural !  * 
Jemimey  says  how  she  do'nt  care, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
Squire  Gobbs's  daughter  Ann, 

Tural  lural,  tural  Jural! 
Scorched  her  bed  with  the  warming  pan, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
Yaller  ingin  meal  has  riz, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
The  patent  soap-fat-man  means  biz, 

Tural. lural,  tural  lural! 
Hump-back  dresses  are  the  go, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
The  deacon's  wife  is  an  old  scare  crow, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
Jerusha  Peck  was  taken  with  a  chill, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 


THE  PUMPKINV1LLE  NEWS. 

And  she  swallowed  an  antiflabergistic  pill, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
Uncle  Pete  went  up  the  lane, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
And  by-and-by  he  came  down  again, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
Anabella  Tabitha  Stoubt. 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
Had  a  rotting  tooth  pulled  out, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
Temperance  Pots  has  rumy  breath, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
The  jrarth-quake  scared  her  most  to  death, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
Perkins  Smart's  got  one  glass  eye, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
Peleg  takes  it  on  the  sly, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
Kebecca's  rooster  whip'd  a  pig, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
And  laid  an  egg,  she  says,  so  big; 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
The  Pumpkinville  church  had  a  fair, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
And  swindled  everybody  there, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
The  gals  sold  kisses  and  boquets, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
And  robbed  you  in  all  sorts  of  ways, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 


130 


THE  PUMPKIN VILLE  NEWS. 


But  as  it  was  a  pious  fraud, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
The  parson  did  himself,  applaud, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
Six  elopements  strange  to  say 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
Followed  soon  this  pious  play, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
Now  good  folks,  I  guess  I'll  go, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
And  set  up  for  a  monkey  show, 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 
Sary,  what  are  you  about? 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural! 
Does  your  anxious  mother  know  you're  eout? 

Tural  lural,  tural  lural ! 


f  HE  IeBUFF. 


]  SWITCHING  young  Clara, 
She's  dear  to  my  marrow — 
Last  night  thro'  the  waltz  I  did  twised  her, 
I  look'd  in  her  eyes, 
I  caught  her  soft  sighs, 
And  then — oh,  ye  Gods!  then  I  kissed  her, 


She  gave  me  a  look, 
Which  I  read  as  a  book, 
As  gently  I  tried  to  assist  her; 
"  You  brute,  you,"  it  said, 
''What's  got  in  your  head?" 

And  damn'e  !  I'm  sorry  I  kissed  her. 


Snew 


BY  THE  HUDDLES. 


Air : — I  knew  by  the  smoke  that  so  gracefully 

CURLED. 


KNEW  by  the  puddles,  all  sprinkled  around 
The  cabin  for  ladies,  a  chewer  was  near; 
And  I  said  if  a  brute's  in  this  world  to  be  found, 
The  said  individual  is  certainly  here. 


Of  delicate  women  there  stood  a  full  score, 
While  the  biped  was  seated,  with  others,  near  by; 

Of  intruders,  perhaps  there  were  thirty  or  more, 
And  frequently,  round  did  tobacco  juice  fly. 

And  this,  I  exclaim'd,  is  the  land  of  the  free  ! 

See !  here  is  democracy  taking  its  ease, 
While  ladies  are  standing  at  full  liberty, 

On  the  floor  to  be  seated,  as  soon  as  they  please. 

Oh,  my  country !  is  all  the  old  gallantry  dead, 
That  once  of  thy  sons  was  the  glory  and  pride? 

Has  chivalry  for  ever  departed  and  fled? 
Alas!  where  now  shall  thy  daughters  abide? 


mBjM  A  RE  WELL!  may  old  ocean  serenely  repose, 
BaHB   As  your  ship  for  that  bright  isle  is  cleaving, 
May  the  skies,  as  your  dreams,  be  all  coleur  de  rose, 
Is  the  prayer  of  the  friends  you  are  leaving. 

May  you  find  there  a  haven  of  quiet  and  rest, 

From  the  strife  of  the  city  afar; 
With  health — priceless  boon — once  more  to  be  blessed, 

And  naught  your  contentment  to  mar. 

Your  dear  ones  will  miss  you,  when  far  from  your  side, 
And  count  the  dull  hours  of  your  stay; 

But  hope  will  assist  them  their  yearnings  to  hide, 
And  cheer  them  on,  while  you're  away. 

Your  friends  will  oft  sigh  for  the  light  of  your  smile, 

That  has  left  them  on  others  to  beam ; 
While  pensively  musing,  their  memories  the  while 

With  thoughts  of  the  wanderer  will  teem. 

How  the  poor  will  bemoan  the  sad  loss  of  a  friend, 

Such  as  heaven  but  seldom  supplies ; 
They'll  pray  the  great  father  his  blessings  to  send, 

And  guard  you,  with  tear-streaming  eyes. 


LOS  7'. 


Again,  now,  farewell,  may  old  ocean  repose, 

Serene  as  a  mid-summer  sea; 
With  health,  joy  and  gladness  all  coleur  de  rose, 

May  you  soon  wafted  back  to  us  be. 


BLIND  boy  once  to  my  cottage  came, 


pE&y|   Love,  was  the  little  urchin's  name; 
I  liked  his  ways  exceedingly, 
And  he  seemed  fond,  as  well,  of  me; 
Day  by  day  he  dearer  grew, 
Until  from  him  all  joy  I  drew. 

One  day  I  miss'd  him  from  my  side, 

His  absence  I  could  ill  abide ; 

I  thought  perhaps  that  he  had  strayed, 

And  lay  reposing  in  some  shade ; 

I  anxious  sought  the  garden  round — 

Alas !  the  boy  could  not  be  found. 

My  peace  is  gone,  my  heart  is  sore, 

I  feel  he  will  return  no  more; 

With  love  and  hope  together  fled, — 

Would  I  were  numbered  with  the  dead. 


IIOST. 


JORTY-SIX— aye  forty-six! 

How  fast  the  years  have  fleeted  by, 
As  down  we  glide  life's  ruffled  tide ; 
Time  ever  seems  more  swift  to  fly. 


Sad  revealing  o'er  me  stealing, 
To  feel  the  bloom  of  youth  decay; 

Each  varying  grace  of  form  and  face 
Fading — fading  day  by  day. 

The  sunny  brow  where  is  it  now? 

With  tell-tale  mark  and  wrinkle  seam'd; 
The  eyes  tho'  bright  have  lost  the  light, 

The  light  of  old  that  from  them  gleam'd. 

The  wavy  hair  so  debonair, 

With  streaks  of  gray  is  sprinkled  o'er; 
The  sunken  cheek  of  care  will  speak; 

The  once  ripe  lip  is  full  no  more. 


ADVENTURES  OF  PHELEM  O'SLA TJGHTERD Y. 


The  buoyant  tread  will  soon  have  fled, 
Changed  to  paces  short  and  slow ; 

With  youthful  dreams  the  memory  teems, 
And  joys  departed  long  ago. 

Dreams  invaded — hopes  how  faded, 
The  fleeting,  wasting  year  by  year, 

Of  life's  glory — tells  the  story; 
Youth  has  past — old  age  is  near. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

Ihelem  S'Ilaughterdy. 

(TO  BE  SUNG  BY  PHELEM  HIMSELF.) 

E  asy  good  people  and  listen  to  me, 
Och  hone!  listen  to  me; 
And  you'll  hear  my  adventures  by  land  and  by  sea, 

Och  hone !  by  land  and  by  sea ! 
Phelem  O'Slaughterdy  sure  is  my  name, 

Och  hone !  sure  is  my  name ! 
And  of  mighty  respectable  people  I  came, 

Och  hone !  people  I  came ! 
My  father  direct  from  the  quality  come, 

Och  hone!  quality  come! 
For  his  uncle  was  butler  to  Lord  Spatterum, 
Och  hone !  Lord  Spatterum ! 


ADVENTURES  OF  PHELEM  OSLAUGHTERDY. 


'Twas  Tony  Mc'Nail  the  great  justice  of  peace, 

Och  hone!  justice  of  peace! 
My  mother  twin  cousin  was  with  his  wife's  neice, 

Och  hone!  with  his  wife's  neice! 
So  you  see  with  the  best  I  can  hold  up  my  head, 

Och  hone!  hold  up  my  head! 
As  a  gintleman  born,  whatever  is  said, 

Och  hone !  whatever  is  said ! 
I  was  raised  in  a  mansion  near  Donnybrook  Fair, 

Och  hone!  Donnybrook  Fair! 
Wid  two  speckled  pigs  and  Tim  Finnegin's  mare, 

Och  hone !  Tim  Finnegin's  mare ! 
The  nurse  told  my  mother  the  night  I  was  born, 

Och  hone !  night  I  was  born ! 
As  she  drank  my  good  health  i'  the  top  of  the  morn 

Och  hone !  top  of  the  morn ! 
"  This  broth  of  a  boy  will  go  roving  you'll  find, 

Och  hone!  roving  you'll  find! 
For  he's  marked  wid  a  steamboat  upon  him  behind, 

Och  hone!  upon  him  behind! 
As  sure  as  my  name  now  is  Peggy  McGee, 

Och  hone !  Peggy  McGee ! 
That  steamboat  will  carry  him  over  the  sea," 

Och  hone!  over  the  sea! 
And  faith  she  was  right,  for  I  scarce  was  a  man, 

Och  hone !  scarce  was  a  man ! 
When  to  travel  all  over  the  world  I  began, 

Och  hone !  world  I  began ! 
Wid  my  father's  old  breeches  and  coat  on  my  back, 
Och  hone !  coat  on  my  back ! 


ADVENTURES  OF  PHELEM  O'SL  AUGHT  ERDY. 

My  grandmother's  petticoat  made  in  a  sack, 

Och  hone!  made  in  a  sack! 
Full  of  nothing  at  all,  but  a  pair  of  old  shoes, 

Och  hone!  pair  of  old  shoes! 
And  a  paper  chuck  full  of  the  Donnybrook  news, 

Och  hone!  Donnybrook  news! 
I  left  dear  old  Ireland  for  foreign  parts  bound, 

Och  hone!  foreign  parts  bound! 
A  seeking  my  fortune  the  wide  world  around, 

Och  hone !  the  wide  world  around ! 
Weighing  anchor  at  daybreak  our  ship  she  hove  to, 

Och  hone !  ship  she  hove  to ! 
The  billows  they  roll'd  and  the  wind  how  it  blew, 

Och  hone!  the  wind  how  it  blew! 
So  sea-sick  I  got  that  I  thought  I  was  kilt, 

Och  hone !  thought  I  was  kilt ! 
While  my  breakfast  all  over  the  vessel  was  spilt, 

Och  hone !  vessel  was  spilt ! 
I  could  not  stand  up  so  I  had  to  lay  flat, 

Och  hone!  had  to  lay  flat! 
When  my  stomach  capsized  itself  whack  in  my  hat, 

Och  hone !  whack  in  my  hat ! 
I  was  turned  inside  out  and  I  tried  for  to  pray, 

Och  hone !  tried  for  to  pray ! 
But  murthur,  oh  murthur,  was  all  I  could  say, 

Och  hone!  all  I  could  say! 
My  head  going  round  like  Foggerty's  mill, 

Och  hone !  Foggerty's  mill ! 
Old  Neptune  the  blackguard  he  treated  me  ill, 

Och  hone !  treated  me  ill ! 


ADVENTURES  OF  PHELEM  O'SLA UGHTERD Y.  139 


One  day  I  got  better  and  stood  on  my  feet, 

Och  hone !  stood  on  my  feet ! 
And  then,  by  the  powers^  what  rations  I  ate, 

Och  hone !  rations  I  ate ! 
We  fell  short  of  provisions  when  off  the  French  coast, 

Och  hone !  off  the  French  coast !  • 
With  nary  a  pratie  to  boil,  or  to  roast, 

Och  hone !  to  boil  or  to  roast ! 
With  the  pork  barrel  full  of  just  nothing  but  brine, 

Och  hone !  nothing  but  brine ! 
Not  a  ha'pence  of  vittles  on  board  for  to  dine, 

Och  hone !  on  board  for  to  dine ! 
The  whiskey  all  gone — not  even  a  sup, 

Och  hone !  not  even  a  sup ! 
To  kill  the  blue  divils  and  keep  spirits  up, 

Och  hone !  keep  spirits  up ! 
The  captain  sent  me,  as  a  dany  resort, 

Och  hone !  dany  resort ! 
To  the  people  on  shore  for  to  make  a  report, 

Och  hone !  make  a  report ! 
'Tis  myself  that's  the  scholar,  and  that  he  well  knew, 

Och  hone!  that  he  well  knew! 
Polly  Voo  Franky,  muss  her  mon,  do! 

Och  hone!  muss  her  mon,  do! 
rTwas  Teddy,  the  piper,  who  taught  me  the  tongue, 

Och  hone !  taught  me  the  tongue ! 
He  was  taching  me  Greek,  when  one  day  he  got  hung, 

Och  hone!  one  day  he  got  hung! 
Bad  'cess  to  the  scalpeen,  he  swindled  my  mother, 

Och  hone!  swindled  my  mother! 


140   ADVENTURES  OF  PHELEM  O'SLA UGH TERD F. 


Out  of  two  quarters  schooling  to  me  and  my  brother, 

Och  hone !  me  and  my  brother ! 
For  the  victuals  he  had,  and  the  board  that  he  ate, 

Och  hone !  board  that  he  ate ! 
Before  he  cracked  open  Mike  Dockerty's  pate, 

Och  hone !  Mike  Dockerty's  pate ! 
If  he'd  let  Mike  alone,  in  the  purtiest  Greek 

Och  hone !  purtiest  Greek ! 
I'd  be  telling  you  now  every  word  that  I  speak, 

Och  hone !  word  that  I  speak ! 
Well,  they  row'd  me  ashore  in  the  jolly  boat  yawl, 

Och  hone!  jolly  boat  yawl! 
But  divil  a  one  was  there  jolly  at  all, 

Och  hone!  jolly  at  all! 
With  stomachs  so  thin,  from  the  starving  they  had, 

Och  hone!  starving  they  had! 
'Twas  a  blessing  that  all  of  us  didn't  go  mad, 

Och  hone !  didn't  go  mad ! 
Or  turn  anthropophegi  and  eat  up  each  other, 

Och  hone!  eat  up  each  other! 
Och  murthur!  to  think  of  it,  son  of  my  mother, 

Och  hone!  son  of  my  mother! 
I  called  at  a  house  where  at  dinnner  they  sat, 

Och  hone !  dinner  they  sat ! 
And  bowing  politely,  I  took  off  my  hat, 

Och  hone !  took  off  my  hat ! 
"  Polly  You! "  cried  I,  "  God  save  you  all  here! 

Och  hone !  God  save  you  all  here ! 
May  you  never  be  wanting  the  best  of  good  cheer — 

Och  hone  !  the  best  of  good  cheer  ! 


ADVENTURES  OF  PHELEM  O'SLA UGHTERD Y.  141 

For  a  loan  of  provisions  I  came  from  the  ship, 

Och  hone  !  came  from  the  ship  ! 
For  ateing  and  drinking  we've  nary  a  rip, 

Och  hone  !  we've  nary  a  rip  ! 
A  barrel  of  pork,  and  praties  a  sack  ! 

Och  hone  !  praties  a  sack  ! 
The  captain's  unaisy  there,  'till  I  fetch  back," 

Och  hone  !  'till  I  fetch  back  ! 
They  nodded  and  jabber'd,  but  divil  a  word, 

Och  hone  !  divil  a  word 
Could  I  make  out  at  all,  of  the  jargon  I  heard, 

Och  hone!  jargon  I  heard! 
'Tis  the  loan  of  some  whiskey,  praties  and  pork, 

Och  hone !  praties  and  pork ! 
Polly  Vou  Franky  !  is  it  French  you  can  talk  ? 

Och  hone !  French  you  can  talk ! 
'Tis  myself  knows  that  same — you  can't  blarney  me, 

Och  hone !  you  can't  blarney  me ! 
(I  was  gitting  quite  vex'd  with  their  maneness,  you  see), 

Och  hone !  maneness  you  see ! 
One  ould  haythen  got  up  and  began  for  to  sputter, 

Och  hone!  began  for  to  sputter! 
Shook  his  fist,  and  got  choked  with  his  brown  bread 
and  butter, 

Och  hone!  brown  bread  and  butter! 
"Bad  cess,"  now  says  I,  "  may  you  drown  in  a  kittle, 

Och  hone !  drown  in  a  kittle ! 
Come  out  of  that,  sure  and  your  stomachs  I'll  settle," 

Och  hone!  stomachs  I'll  settle! 
And  I  nabb'd  a  big  pig  that  was  gruntin'  around, 


TO  MRS.  V  N. 


Och  hone !  gruntin'  around ! 
And  away  to  the  ship  with  her  got,  safe  and  sound, 

Och  hone!  got  safe  and  sound! 
And  from  that  day  to  this,  no  sinse  can  I  make, 

Och  hone !  sinse  can  I  make ! 
At  all  of  the  lingo  old  Polly  Vou  spake, 

Och  hone !  Polly  You  spake ! 


roses  you  sent  me 
i   Are  faded  and  dead  ; 
Lost  is  their  beauty, 

Their  lovliness  fled  ; 
But  a  perfume  breathes  round  them, 

Which  long  will  remain, 
To  bring  to  remembrance 
Their  glories  again. 

'Tis  thus  with  the  doner, 

Tho'  lost  to  us  here ; 
Tho'  absent — though  silent, 

To  memory  dear  ; 
As  the  scent  of  the  roses, 

Her  virtues  will  bloom, 
O'er  thoughts  of  her,  breathing 

A  lasting  perfume. 


h  W. 


ASTORAL  »UET. 


I E.  Pretty  maiden  let  us  stray, 

To  the  groves  and  meadows  gay, 
Deck'd  in  summer's  bright  array, 
Rip  fol  rol  de  rol  ri  do  ! 

Let  us  wander  by  the  side 
Of  the  babbling  streamlet's  tide. 

Where  the  purple  violets  hide, 
Rip  fol  rol  de  rol  ri  do  ! 

With  the  painted  butterfly, 
Flitting  o'er  the  blossoms  nigh, 

Swift  the  sunny  hours  will  fly, 
Rip  fol  rol  de  rol  ri  do  ! 

She.      Oh,  no  !  I  may  not  rove  with  you, 
I  tell  you  sir,  it  will  not  do, 
Such  indescretion  I  should  rue, 
Rip  fol  rol  de  rol  ri  do  ! 

He        Charming  maid — don't  say  you  so, 

Come  where  the  scented  violets  grow, 
Blue  as  your  heavenly  eyes  they  blow. 
Rip  fol  rol  de  rol  ri  do  ! 


144  A  PASTORAL  DUET. 

She      O,  no,  indeed  !  I  must  away, 

You  men  are  all  deceivers  gay, 
Who  lead  us  simple  maids  astray, 
Rip  fol  rol  de  rol  ri  do  ! 

He        Come  let  us  sit  upon  this  stile, 

And  breath  the  balmy  air  awhile, 
While  nature  all  around  doth  smile, 
Rip  fol  rol  de  rol  ri  do  ! 

I'll  wreathe  for  you  a  garland  gay, 
And  crown  you  love's  young  queen  of  May, 

These  kisses  sweet,  I  take  for  pay, 
Rip  fol  rol  de  rol  ri  do  ! 

She.      Bold  sir  !  you'd  better  now  be  gone, 

There's  pop  a  coming  down  the  lawn, 
I'll  tell  him  how  you're  going  on, 
Rip  fol  rol  de  rol  ri  do  ! 

Yet  stay,  good  sir,  you  need  not  fear, 

My  daddy  is  not  coming  near, 
Oh  Lord  !  what  makes  me  feel  so  queer  ? 

Rip  fol  rol  de  rol  ri  do  ! 


IfoiCES  of  -Spring. 

|W|  ARK;  I  hear  the  peepers  sing 
18*BB«3|    In  the  marshy  pools  around, 
Tiny  harbingers  of  Spring — 
They  in  multitudes  abound. 


When  the  ides  of  March  have  sped, 
When  the  blustering  winds  are  still, 

When  April  showers  are  warmly  shed, 
Loud  resounds  the  chorus  shrill. 

With  the  blue  bird's  welcome  note, 
With  the  meadows  springing  green, 

On  the  breeze  at  twilight  float 

Thrilling  tones  from  choirs  unseen. 

Oft  I've  strayed  at  evening's  fall 
By  some  lonely  shelter'd  pool, 

Heard  the  owlet's  startling  call, 
And  muskrat's  plunge  in  wraters  cool. 


A  thousand  trilling  voices  sung, 
Echoing  from  bog  to  bog; 

The  chorus  loud  and  louder  rung, 
But  yet  to  view  was  nary  frog. 


Sunlight. 


TO  A  FRIEND. 


|  HEER  up !  tho'  the  dark  clouds  of  sorrow  now  lower. 
Extinguishing  every  hope,  as  they  roll ; 
Yet  the  sunlight  will  lift  the  grim  vail  in  an  hour, 
And  brighten  with  joy -beams  your  grief  ladened  soul. 


Somewhere  I  have  read  of  a  talisman  rare, 
In  legend  of  old,  of  such  wondrous  might, 

Tho'  the  soul  should  be  lost  in  the  depths  of  despair, 
A  ray  from  the  gem  would  exalt  it  with  light. 

Dear  friend,  of  the  talisman  you  are  possess'd, — 

Tis  truth  !  it  will  pierce  thro'  your  life's  darken'd  day; 

One  glance  will  dispel  every  care  from  your  breast ; 
The  glance  that  sweeps  slander's  grim  shadows  away. 


Cheer  up  !  for  your  skies  will  with  sunlight  yet  gleam. 

"The hour  before  day  is  the  darkest  of  night; " 
There's  a  star  in  the  heavens  which  kindly  will  beam, — 

Your  sad  heart,  once  more  making  happy  and  light. 


COUSIN  MAY. 

qJAd 

flWAS  on  a  breezy  afternoon  in  autumn's  early  days, 
The  fleecy  clouds  were  flying  high,  obscuring  old 
Sol's  rays, 

When  cousin  May  and  I  embark'd — to  her  the  trip  was  new, 
On  board  the  High  Bridge  boat,  resolved  that  famous  span 
to  view. 


Now  May  was  in  her  nineteenth  year,  a  blooming  rustic 
maid, 

And  I — alas  !  well,  time  has  sped  and  left  me  in  the  shade; 
Her  sparkling  eyes,  her  dewy  lips,  her  hair  in  ringlets  hung, 
I  musing  saw,  and  sighed  to  think  I  was  no  longer  young 

We  left  the  boat,  to  climb  the  hill,  with  fallen  leaves  be- 
strown ; 

They  spoke  to  me  of  hurried  years,  by  time  relentless  sown ; 
While  May  went  tripping  on  before,  with  spirits  light  and 
free, 

Then  laughing  turned,  to  catch  a  glance  which  brought  her 
back  to  me. 

I'm  thinking  May,  of  long  ago,  when  with  a  girl  as  fair, 
I  trod  entranced,  the  earth  to  feel  that  heaven  was  every- 
where ; 

She  long  has  been  my  wife,  and  now  'tis  not  that  I  complain. 
But  memory's  ever  harping  on  that  old,  old  time  refrain. 


fo  fa  and  fRs.  f  f 

ON  THE  25tll  ANNIVERSARY  OF   THEIR  WEDDING-DAY. 


EAR  friends  on  time's  resistless  stream, 
With  pains  and  pleasures  rife; 
A  quarter  of  a  century, . 
Has  seen  you  man  and  wife. 

Sometimes,  no  doubt,  your  course  has  been, 
With  clouds  and  storms  o'ercast; 

But  faith  and  hope  have  guided  you 
To  havens  of  rest  at  last. 

Sometimes,  as  on  a  summer  sea, 

Bland  zephyrs  softly  blow ; 
And  joy's  full  cup,  with  golden  gleam 

Seems  ready  to  o'erflow. 

But  as  the  storm-clouds  break  away, 

And  brightning  skies  appear, 
So  is  the  sunshine  lost  in  shade — 

There's  nothing  constant  here. 

We  meet  to-night,  to  wish  you  joy  ; 

May  Heaven  its  blessings  send 
To  cheer  you  on — God  grant  you  this! 

On  to  your  journey's  end. 


Catastrophe. 

KNEW  a  smallish  yaller  dorg, 
They  rated  him  a  ratter; 


To  whip  a  catalogue  of  cats, 
He  rated  a  small  matter; 

To  shun  this  cat  catastrophe, 
The  scatted  cats  would  scatter. 


One  day  offensive,  near  the  fence 

A  Thomas  cat  was  calling; 
He'd  rub  his  head  and  hoist  his  back, 

And  raise  a  squall  by  squalling; 
The  purp,  he  purposed  to  oppose 

Such  fearful  catawawling. 

Although  he  sat  upon  his  rump, 

He  did  not  want  a  rumpus ; 
He  charged  that  well  charged  Thomas  cat, 

And  soon  his  end  did  compass; 
He  seized  his  game  to  block  his  game, 

But  found  puss  was  no  dumb  puss. 


TO  MISS  LYDIA  THOMPSON. 

He  caught  him,  though  he  does  not  court, 

As  at  his  rear  he  snatches ; 
Tom  turned  and  spit,  and  yowl'd  and  fit, 

And  blinded  him  with  scratches ; 
For  with  his  paws  he  did  not  pause, 

But  raked  his  hide  in  patches ; 
And  since  that  day,  that  purp  won't  stay 

"When  sight  of  Tom  he  catches. 


50  fliss  §ydia  .Thompson. 


ON  A  MATINEE  DAY. 
TO  BE  SUNG  AND  DANCED  A  LA  BRYANT'S  MINSTRELS. 

LYDDY !  ohLyddy! 
My  peace  of  mind  is  gone ; 
You'll  be  my  death, 
I  know  you  will! 
The  way  you're  going  on. 


O  Lyddy!  oh  Lyddy! 

Your  voice  is  dreadful  sweet ; 


TO  MISS  LYDIA  THOMPSON. 

If  I'd  a  bunch  of — of  hollyhocks, 
I'd  lay  them  at  your  feet. 

0  Lyddy!  oh  Lyddy! 
Do  cover  them,  I  pray! 
Those  limbs  of  yours 
I'm  thinking  of — 

1  swear  it — night  and  day! 

O  Lyddy !  oh  Lyddy ! 

My  brain  is  in  a  fluster; 

With  love  I  soon 

Will  busted  be— 

Your  bust  is  such  a  buster! 

O  Lyddy!  oh  Lyddy! 
I'm  dying  in  despair! 
My  pants  are  rent, 
My  cash  is  spent — 
To-day  I  can't  be  there! 


1,  Earning  to  f  portsmen. 


|]HERE  once  was  a  sportsman  who  lived  in  our  town, 
One  day  he  went  hunting  a  skunk,  and  he  did! 
The  gun  it  went  off  and  the  sportsman  went  down, 
On  his  back  in  a  puddle,  kerchunk,  and  he  did! 


For  you  see  when  the  sportsman  he  loaded  his  gun, 
He  used  too  much  powder  and  shot,  and  he  did! 

So  the  gun  it  did  kick,  and  the  skunk  he  did  run, 
And  the  sportsman  the  worst  of  it  got,  and  he  did! 

A  warning  to  sports  who  are  cutting  a  swell, 

In  this  little  episode  plainly  we  see ; 
They  must  moderately  charge  who  would  have  their  shots 

Ammunition  is  wasted  when  furnished  too  free.     [tell — 


OF  THE  DELUDED  SMOKER. 


II 0,  put  my  pipe  far — far  away! 
Where  now  the  hopes  I  cherished 
My  meerschaum  is  a  mere  sham, 

By  fond  delusion  nourished; 
My  dreams  of  bliss — where  are  they  now  ? 
Forever — ever  perished ! 


A  casket  as  the  purest  gem  . 

The  day  I  bought — encased  it, 
To  color  it,  I'd  like  to  know 

How  much  "  Lone  Jack"  I've  wasted; 
The  chap  who  sold  that  pipe  and — me, 

Oh !  how  I'd  like  him  basted. 


I've  smoked  it  'till  I've  smoked  myself 

The  color  of  sole -leather  ; 
I've  blown  a  cloud  both  day  and  night, 

And  in  all  sorts  of  weather, 
And  now  I'll  stop  it,  or  I  fear 

We'll  both  go  out  together. 


154 


IMPROMPTU. 


Then  take  the  vile  pretense  away, 
My  dream  of  bliss  is  o'er; 

My  meerschaum  is  a  mere  sham, 
I'll  smoke  the  fraud  no  more ; 

I've  been  a  fearful  spooney,  else 
I'd  smoked  it  out  before. 


throw  that  nasty  pipe  away 
Its  stinking  breath  to  smell, 
Is  worse  than  assafcedita — 
Yea!  stygian  blasts  from  hell! 


MPROMPTU. 


JOINING, 


OME,  please  take  this  soup-dish  away — 
I  can  dispatch  with  zest, 
A  slice  of  roast  or  boiled,  to-day, 
Substantial  suit  me  best ! 


Oh  !  whilst  this  aching  void  is  here, 
My  soul  can  know  no  peace ; 

Give  me  a  cut  of  lean,  my  dear, 
Devoid  of  fat  or  grease. 

Dear  friend  I'll  trouble  you  once  more, 

That  turkey's  hit  the  spot ! 
My  heart  tho'  sorrow'd  to  its  core, 

The  breast,  refuses  not. 


No  more  !  grim  hunger  vanquished,  lay ; — 

Joy — peace,  he  leaves  behind; 
I  thank  the  Gods,  that  I  to-day, 

Can  truly  say  I've  dined  ! 


MY  VALENTINE. 


§YSTER  §TEW. 

GIVE  me,  I  pray  thee,  a  good  oyster  stew, 
Believe  me,  there's  nothing  so  nice  ! 
Roast  meats,  et  caetera  for  dinner  will  do, 
For  supper,  let  oysters  suffice. 

When  stew'd  to  a  turn,  so  plump  and  so  sweet, 
They're  a  dish  for  the  Gods,  I  declare ! 

And  if  ever  you're  wishing  to  give  me  a  treat, 
Let  a  stew  be  comprised  in  the  fare. 


ify  Valentine. 

jft&tifd  I  love  such  a  gay  little  beauty, 
bSsEsI    I'm  bewitched  by  her  smile  and  her  eyes; 
Her  ripe  lips  so  laden'd  with  booty, 
Her  form,  which  the  fairest  outvies. 

My  heart  with  enchantment  is  teeming 

Its  pulse  is  to  ecstasy  stir'd : 
Every  smile,  every  glance  has  its  meaning, — 

There's  a  charm  in  each  motion,  each  word. 

No  language  her  beauty  expresses, 

Her  graces  no  tongue  can  rehearse ; 
Eyes,  lips,  smiles,  dimples  and  tresses, 

O  would  I  could  picture  in  verse! 


f  o  |tta. 


jjjWfl  ISS  Etta,  I'll  try  to  be  funny, 
llaofiJll    I  admit  it  is  out  of  my  line ; 
But  I'll  bother  my  brains  and  spend  money, 
To  make  you  a  good  valentine. 

I  know  how  the  rhymesters  all  do  it, 
They  talk  about  heaven  and  eyes — 

Each  inch  of  a  face,  they'll  go  thro'  it, — 
And  wind  up  with  bosoms  and  sighs. 

They'll  talk  about  eyes  so  entrancing, 
That  rival  the  stars  in  the  night; 

When  nonsense  like  this  they're  advancing, 
Put  them  down  crazy  or  tight. 

They'll  rave  about  lips  that  are  sweeter 
Than  sugar,  or  nectar,  or  such ; 

When  likely  the  girl,  should  you  meet  her, 
Would  prove  to  be  nothing  but  Dutch. 

They'll  tell  you  of  cheeks  like  ripe  peaches, 

So  downy,  so  rosy,  so  sweet; 
You  must  not  believe  in  such  speeches, 

I've  bit  them — they're  not  fit  to  eat. 


TO  ETTA. 


They'll  warble  of  golden-hued  tresses, 
And  sing  such  extravagant  lays; 

But,  bless  me,  such  nonsense  distresses — 
The  hair  is  as  red  as  a  blaze. 

They'll  harp  about  teeth,  that  in  likeness,, 

Resemble  the  purest  of  pearl ; 
They're  false  !  a  fig  for  their  whiteness; — 

They're  crockery,  I  tell  you,  my  girl ! 

They'll  rave  about  forms  so  bewitching, 

They  rival  the  angels  on  high; 
I  tell  you  'tis  cotton  and  stitching, 

What  they  say,  my  dear  girl,  is  a  story 

I'll  not  praise  your  form  or  your  features, 

Or  flatter  by  any  devise ; 
I  love  you  as  one  of  God's  creatures, 

And  think  you  are  so  dreadful  nice  ! 


foGIC. 


I  OUR  pardon,  dear  girl ! 
My  brain's  in  a  whirl, 
1  declare,  I'm  an  object  of  pity; 
In  my  mind  will  revolve, 
This  problem  to  solve ; 
Is  your  mouth  as  sweet  as  'tis  pretty  I 


A  student  am  I, 

'Twere  wicked  to  try, 
My  advance  as  A.M.  to  be  staying; 

You  will  not  be  hard, 

And  science  retard, 
By  a  grain  of  ill  humor  displaying. 


Be  a  mistress  of  arts, 

As  well  as  of  hearts, 
Our  studies  pursuing  together; 

There'd  be  nothing  amiss, 

Should  I  practice  the  kiss, 
I'd  be  solving  the  problem  forever. 


TO  CLARA  LOUISE. 


I  can  prove  by  the  book, — 

You  will  find  if  you  look, — 
That  giving  is  better  than  taking; 

So  if  you'd  as  leave, 

The  kiss  I'll  receive, 
And  as  donor  two  bless'd  you'll  be  making. 


f  0  %  LARA  §0UISE. 

WHO  CRITICISED  ONE  OF  THE  BARD'S  EFFUSIONS. 

ISS  Clara  Louise,  you  have  broken  the  ease 
Of  a  youth,  whose  name  shall  be  nameless; 
You  might  think  him  to  blame,  should  he  mention  his 
If  he  don't,  why  of  coarse  he  is  blameless.  [name, 

On  the  boat  we  have  met,  and  I  think  of  you  yet, 
Tho'  a  long  time  has  past  since  our  meeting; 

You  left  for  the  shore — I  saw  you  once  more, 
As  to  peanuts  yourself  you  were  treating. 

I  can  still  see,  I  think,  of  your  eyes  the  soft  blink, 

As  the  fire-fly's  light,  they  meander; 
I  may  be  obtuse,  but  I've  wish'd  you  a  goose, 

And  that  I  was  your  favorite  gander. 


TO  JULIE. 


161 


Your  cheeks,  I  declare,  with  peaches  compare, 
As  well  as  your  smiles  and  your  dimples; 

I  remember  it  well — by  your  lips'  pouting  swell, 
There  arose  two  such  sweet  little  pimples. 

Dear  Clara,  I  close; —  of  each  charm  to  dispose, — 

(How  well  every  one  I  remember), — 
I  should  die  in  despair,  tearing  my  hair — 
'Twould  take  me  from  now  to  December. 
February,  Uth,  1873.  Yours  truly, 

Incognito. 


f0  fuLIE. 

ISS  Julie,  I  met  you  one  day, 
I  think  'twas  to  school  you  were  going; 
The  weather  was  cold; — by  the  way, 
On  the  tip  of  your  nose  it  was  snowing. 

Your  cheeks  were  as  red  as  a  rose, 
Your  eyes  with  fun  they  did  glisten ; 

You  were  thinking  of  me,  I  suppose, 
And  you  laugh'd,  'till  I  stopped,  just  to  listen. 


162 


TO  JULIE. 


You  came  to  a  puddle  of  ice, — 

Bad  luck  to  the  sidewalk  scrubbers  ! — 

You  went  down  on  your  back  in  a  trice, — 
How  I  wished  that  you'd  had  on  your  rubbers. 


Before  I  could  wink,  you  were  up, 
And  laughing  more  gaily  than  ever; 

While  Frank  Dayton's  yellowish  pup 
Stood  wagging  his  tail,  to  be  clever. 


Since  that  morning  my  heart  has  felt  weak, 

I  scarcely  know  what  is  the  matter; 
I  think  'tis  your  eye  and  your  cheek; 

But  you  know  that  I  don't  want  to  flatter. 

Feb.  14th,  1873.  Your's  eventually, 

Tom  Stiggins. 


■Sines  to  my  washerwoman. 


|{|8|  H  Sukey  !  thou  queen  of  the  suds  ! 
iWwnl    Thou  most  saponaceous  of  women ; 
Thou  has  wrung  out  my  heart  with  my  duds; 
Thou  hast  mangled  it  up  with  my  linen. 

Thou  hast  robbed  me  forever  of  peace, 
Tho'  I've  paid  thee  for  dozens  of  pieces ; 

To  torture  me  when  wilt  thou  cease ; 
Dost  thou  wish  to  boil  out  all  my  greases'? 

Thy  scrubbing-board  is  not  as  rough 

As  thy  treatment — thou'lt  be  my  undoing. 

If  thou'dst  smile,  I'd  be  happy  enough; 
Thou  f rown'st,  and  I'm  bluer  than  blueing. 

Thou'rt  acting  upon  me  as  lye, 

I'm  shrinking,  dissolving,  I'm  parching; 
Thou'dst  better  now  hang  me, — (to  dry), 

I'll  be  stiff  enough  soon,  without  starching. 


f  HE  f  IRLS. 

Air: — Kate  Kearny. 


|]  H!  the  dear  little  girls  how  they  use  us, 

How  they  bother,  torment  and  abuse  us! 
With  ogles  and  smiles, 
Coquetting  and  wiles, 
They  fuddle,  they  weedle,  amuse  us. 


One  day  for  Belinda  I'm  itching, 
The  next  one,  in  love  I'll  be  pitching, 

With  Amanda  or  Josie, 

With  Bessie  or  Rosie, 
So  killing,  so  coy,  so  bewitching. 

O  Susie,  don't  say  that  I'm  fickle, 
That  I'm  caught  by  a  smirk  or  a  freckle, 
You  fancy,  you  jade, 
Of  your  tongue  I'm  afraid; 
But  I'm  fond  of  you,  Sue,  as  a  pickle. 

There  was  Kate,  the  divine  little  creature, 
So  faultless  in  form  and  in  feature ; 

How  she  wounded  my  pride, 

When  she  put  me  aside, 
To  elope  with  that  Godless  old  preacher. 


THE  GIRLS. 


Polly,  as  spry  as  a  cricket, 

Her  poor  little  heart  she  would  stick  it, 

At  any  who'd  take  it, 

To  love  or  to  break  it, 
To  slight  it,  to  play  with,  or  kick  it. 

Oeorgie,  so  sweetly  beguiling, 
So  delusively  gushing  and  smiling; 
She'd  prate  of  love's  pain, 
With  the  utmost  disdain, 
My  hopes  to  Jerusalem  exiling. 

Dear  Clara,  the  Goddess  assuming, 
As  Flora  herself  is,  as  blooming; 
Not  a  day  in  the  week, 
But  the  blush  of  her  cheek, 
Some  heart  to  destruction  is  dooming. 

Ella,  the  roguish  "enchanter, 
To  her  beauty  I  yielded  instanter; — 
I  was  terribly  down, 
When  she  cut  me  for  Brown, 
And  courted  for  weeks  the  decanter. 

Jessie  was  truly  provoking, 

She  never  would  cease  from  her  joking; 
If  of  love  I  but  spoke, 
My  ribs  she  would  poke, 

And  advise  me,  my  head  to  go  soaking. 


THE  GIRLS. 


Ann,  such  a  sweet  little  saint  was, 
In  her  soul,  there  of  sin  not  a  taint  was; 
Her  humor  to  please, 
I  must  down  on  my  kness, 
And  pray  till  I  addled  and  faint  was. 

Maggie  was  awfully  funny, 

Her  moods  were  all  mustard  and  honey; 

She'd  play  the  coquette, 

Then  fly  in  a  pet, 
Then  jump  from  the  cloudy,  to  sunny. 

Delia,  so  wild  and  romantic, 

With  crotchets  she  drove  me  near  frantic ; 
Her  battles  to  fight, 
She  dubbed  me  her  knight, 

As  her  fool,  I  cut  many  an  antic. 

Peg  had  a  spice  of  the  tartar, 

She  was  Susie  again, — only  smarter; 

Her  thumb  I'll  be  bound, 

She  twisted  me  round, 
Till  I  suffer'd  the  pangs  of  a  martyr. 

Alicia  so  dreamy  and  mazy, 

As  blooming  and  fresh  as  the  daisy, — 

Don't  tell  me  of  blisses, 

I  revel'd  in  kisses, 
Till  with  ecstasy  drunken  and  crazy. 


THE  GIRLS.— Continued. 


Eliza,  so  gay  and  so  witty 
So  wild,  so  adorably  pretty ; 
The  pert  little  minx, 
I'm  dying,  she  thinks, 
So  I  am,  bnt  I'm  dying  for  Kitty. 
March  12th,  1873. 


Continued,  Oct.  12th,  1873. 

Louise,  your  bright  eyes  are  distilling, 

Glances  so  wickedly  killing; 
As  lightning  they  dart, 
To  each  love  stricken  heart, 

That  to  die  for  you's  only  too  willing. 

Elnorah,  in  mischief  would  revel, — 
We  never  could  meet  on  a  level ; 

The  salute,  did  I  try, 

The  missiles  would  fly, 
Till  my  countenance  look'd  like  the  devil. 

Oh,  Sarah  !  how  can  I  forget  you  ? 
Forgive  me,  'twas  wicked  to  fret  you; 

Two  rose-buds  so  tempting, 

To  think  of  preempting, 
How  could  you  ?  I  never  could  let  you. 


168 


THE  GIRLS.— Continued. 


Emma,  I  kneel  to  confession; 

From  those  rubies  I  took  an  impression, 

So  deliciously  sweet, 

I  again  would  repeat 
A  thousand  times  more,  the  transgression. 

Mamie,  to  light  up  your  eyes,  now, 
Your  sweet  little  soul  how  it  flies,  now, 

Such  expression  and  grace, 

In  each  feature  to  trace, — 
Had  you  wings  you'd  be  off  for  the  skies,  now 

Friends  tell  me  from  follies  to  sever, — 
I'm  aging — that  prudence  will  never 

Permit  them  to  pass, 

Then  Prudenc's  an  ass — 
I'll  dote  on  the  darlings  forever! 


f 0  glANNIE, 

Air: — "  The  Harp  that  once  Thro'  Tara's  Halls." 

^HE  bard  whose  muse  in  lofty  flight 
I   So  lately  spread  the  wing, 
Now  leaves  him  in  a  woful  plight; — 
The  stupid  jade  won't  sing. 


So  crow'd  the  cock  in  clarion  tones, 

The  champion  of  the  fight ; 
Now  hail'd  with  curses,  sneers  and  groans, 

He  shows  the  feather  white. 

In  pity  do  not  blame  the  bard, 

But  to  forgive  him  try ; 
For  oh !  'tis  hard — 'tis  fearful  hard, 

To  sing  when  one's  so  dry! 


f  0  |ROF.  f .  f .  f  ROST. 


EAR  friend,  how  oft  memory  reverts  to  the  hours 
I  past  in  your  pleasant  retreat : 
To  the  hills,  and  the  dales,  the  streams  and  the  flowersy 
And  the  friends,  I  with  pleasure  could  greet. 

How  often  the  streamlet  I  wander'd  along, 

To  feel  with  old  Walton  the  thrill, 
As  of  echoing  notes  of  some  long  ago  song, 

From  lips  that  were  long  ago  still. 

While  the  grass  was  yet  wet  with  the  lingering  dewy 

With  my  rod  I  would  hasten  away, 
To  fish  the  clear  stream  where  the  witch-hazel  grewy 

With  the  trout  leaping; — eager  for  prey. 

Tho'  small  was  the  catch,  yet  the  pleasure  was  great, 

To  a  student  and  dreamer  like  me, 
As  hiding,  I'd  cautiously  offer  the  bait, 

And  wait  the  finale  to  see. 

While  memory  would  teem  with  the  olden  time  lays, 

Extoling  the  trout  fisher's  art, 
No  wonder  impassion'd  they  sang  in  its  praise, 

With  nature  so  prompting  the  heart. 


A  FANCY. 


Ill 


The  murmuring  brook,  the  caroling  birds, 
The  meadow,  the  whispering  breeze; — 

If  there's  song  in  the  soul  to  be  echoed  in  words, 
It  will  gush  to  the  bidding  of  these. 

It  is  joy,  on  the  lake  and  the  river  to  look, 

And  the  voice  of  glad  waters  to  hear ; 
There's  a  song  in  the  murmur  and  flow  of  the  brook, 

To  the  soul  of  the  angler  dear. 


l&agafl]    wnere  the  wild  thyme  with  zephyr  is  playing. 
But  to  seek  for  the  blisses, 
Which  meet  in  her  kisses, 
Short  of  heaven, — 'twere  madness  betraying  ! 


OR  the  breath  of  my  mistress  go  straying, 


W  moat. 


||IS  joy,  in  my  boat, 
On  the  billows  to  float, 
With  a  wind  that  is  steady  and  free ; 
O'er  the  rumpling  tide, 
So  swiftly  to  glide, — 
O,  this  is  the  pleasure  for  me  ! 


The  jockey  may  brag 

Of  his  two-forty  nag, 
As  he  whollops  his  lathering  hide ; 

But  when  he  is  done, 

It  is  miserable  fun, 
And  he  yet,  to  the  devil  may  ride. 

In  my  tight  little  boat, 

On  the  billows  to  float, 
With  a  wind  that  is  steady  and  free ; 

O'er  the  rumpling  tide, 

So  swiftly  to  glide, — 
O,  this  is  the  pleasure  for  me  ! 


THE  GIRLS  THAT  WE  LOVED  LONG  AGO.  173 


You  may  go  it  by  steam, 

With  a  snort  and  a  scream, 
With  a  puff  and  a  shiver  and  shake; 

A  volcano  below, 

With  no  one  to  know 
How  soon  an  ascension  you'll  make. 

Then  give  me  my  boat, 

On  the  billows  to  float, 
With  a  wind  that  is  steady  and  free ; 

O'er  the  rumpling  tide, 

So  swiftly  to  glide, — 
O,  this  is  the  pleasure  for  me! 


HE  SrlRLS  THAT  WE  £oVED  §0NG  8,G0 


jlHERE  are  smiles  of  such  exquisite  meaning, 
There  are  voices  like  music  that  flow ; 
Only  seen,  only  heard  when  we're  dreaming 
Of  the  girls,  that  we  loved  long  ago. 

Where  are  they,  those  once  so  loved  faces? 

Thro'  the  mist  of  long  years,  how  they  glow ; 
Alas !  time  has  left  his  sad  traces, 

With  the  girls  that  we  loved  long  ago. 


THE  GIRLS  THAT  WE  LOVED  LONG  AGO. 


As  the  leaves  by  the  blast,  they  are  scattered — , 
Some  are  sleeping  the  green  sod,  below; 

Some  by  false  hopes  are  wasted  and  shatter'd — 
Are  the  girls,  that  we  loved  long  ago. 

The  charms  that  bewitch'd  us  departed, — 
(They  were  fleeting  as  roses  that  blow ;) 

With  the  song — with  the  laughter  light-hearted, 
Of  the.  girls,  that  we  loved  long  ago. 

We  gaze  with  a  sigh  upon  faces, 

That  with  youth  still  seducingly  glow ; 

As  we  fancy  we  read  in  them  traces 
Of  the  girls,  that  we  loved  long  ago. 

Though  our  hearts  may  be  harden 'd  and  colder, 
Tho'  our  locks  may  be  sprinkled  with  snow, 

May  a  spark  in  our  bosoms  still  smoulder, 
For  the  girls,  that  we  loved  long  ago. 


At  Lake  Waccabuc. 


EAR  Alice,  in  the  atmosphere 
I   Of  Harlem,  there  is  something  queer; 


In  fact,  we  are  quite  dumpish  here, 
Since  you  left  for  Waccabuc. 

The  sparrows  chirp  a  dismal  lay, 
From  morn  till  night;  they  seem  to  say, 
Our  little  friend  has  gone  away; 
She's  gone — she's  gone  to  Waccabuc. 

A  smallish  dog  passed  by  your  door; 

His  back,  his  tail  was  wagging  o'er; 

He  paused, — it  dropped, — he  wagged  no  more, 

He  knew  you'd  gone  to  Waccabuc. 

The  music-box  is  mute — is  dumb, — 
The  castinets,  the  bells,  the  drum, 
Are  heard  no  more;  but  when  you  come, 
They'll  welcome  you  from  Waccabuc. 


TO  ALICE. 


Last  evening  on  the  stoop  I  sat, 
As  melancholy  as  a  bat, 
When  some  one  whispered  to  me,  that 
I'd  better  go  to  Waccabuc. 

But  no,  indeed!  I  will  not  go, 
Somebody  there,  perhaps,  you  know, 
Would  say,  "  there,  now,  I  told  you  so, 
I  knew  he'd  come  to  Waccabuc." 

i  '  For  an  old  fellow,  turning  gray, 
'Tis  really  too  absurd,  I  say, 
To  have  him  going  on  this  way, 
For  Alice,  here  at  Waccabuc." 

Tho'  Alice,  with  each  fleeting  year, 
Some  joy,  some  grace  may  disappear, 
The  youthful  feelings  still  are  here, 
I'd  have  them  know  at  Waccabuc. 

And  did  I  fail  to  greet  with  joy, 
As  friend  the  blooming  girl  or  boy, 
Then  life  were  dross  and  base  alloy. — 
So  say  to  them  at  Waccabuc. 

The  child  of  song  is  ever  young, 
He's  Fancy's  own,  and  dwells  among 
Realms  of  beauty  yet  unsung, 
Surpassing — even  Waccabuc, 


TO  ALICE. 


There!  that  is  what  they'll  call  a  flight, 
From  common  sense  quite  out  of  sight; 
The  ravings  of  a  rhyming  wight, — 
Won't  they  now,  at  Waccabuc? 

Dear  Alice,  will  you  write,  and  say 
How  you  pass  the  hours  away, 
Or  have  you  quite  forgotten,  pray, 
The  friend  you  left  for  Waccabuc  ? 

Sit  down  and  tell  me  all  the  news, 
Are  any  of  the  boarders  Jews? 

Does  Mrs.  G  wear  ugly  shoes? 

What  say  they  there  at  Waccabuc  ? 

Write  and  tell  me  who  are  who, 
What  they  say,  and  what  they  do, 
Who  are  gay,  and  who  are  blue 
Among  the  belles  at  Waccabuc. 

Have  you  been  fishing  on  the  lake? 
How  many  gudgeons  did  you  take? 
Or  did  a  monster  black  bass  make 
Way  with  your  line  at  Waccabuc  ? 

I  hope  you  didn't  tumble  in, 

And  soak  yourself  from  foot  to  chin ; 

But  if  you  did,  it  was  a  sin, 

To  use  you  so  at  Waccabuc. 


TO  ALICE. 


You  never  should,  had  I  been  there, — 
I  would  have  taken  every  care ; 
Plunged  in  the  lake,  I  do  declare, 
And  rescued  you  from  Waccabuc. 

There's  dangers  in  the  country,  dear, 
Which  we  in  Harlem  need  not  fear; — 
We're  troubled  with  cockroaches  here, 
There  're  horrid  things  at  Waccabuc. 

When  rambling  down  the  flowery  lea, 
You  dreadful  darning-needles  see — 
Now  hide  your  pretty  mouth,  or  he 
May  sew  it  up  at  Waccabuc. 

You  wander  to  the  shady  dell, 
Where  grows  the  violet  and  harebell, 
But  there  the  gally-nippers  dwell, 
That  suck  your  blood  at  Waccabuc. 

You  seek  retreats  where  zephyr  blows, 
Whose  whisperings  lull  you  to  repose, 
When  down  upon  your  very  nose 
A  monster  drops  at  Waccabuc. 

You  rove  along  the  babbling  stream, 
While  of  some  fairy -land  you  dream, 
When  suddenly  you  scream  a  scream, 
For  down  your  neck's  a  straddlebug. 


TO  ALICE. 


With  morning's  blush  away  you  hie, 
To  breathe  the  breath  of  meadows,  nigh; — 
A  grasshopper  hops  in  your  eye 
And  maddens  you  with  Waccabuc. 

When  twilight  steals  o'er  dale  and  hill, 
You  hear  the  plaintive  whip-poor-will, 
And  stay  out  till  you  get  a  chill, 
From  falling  dews  at  Waccabuc. 

You  gather  berries  from  the  brake, 
And  garlands  of  the  oak-leaves  make, 
Oh  Katie,  was'nt  that  a  snake? 
Away  you  fly  from  Waccabuc. 

You  gaily  trip  by  laughing  rill, 
Where  droops  the  fragrant  daffodil, 
With  slimy  mud  your  slippers  fill, 
The  oozy  mire  of  Waccabuc. 

You're  thinking  of — I  won't  say  who, 
The  birds  are  warbling  over  you, 
A  spider  huge  appears  in  view, 
Hung  from  your  hat  at  Waccabuc. 

You  pluck  a  wild  flower  down  the  lea, 
Its  breath  inhale,  and  beauties  see — 
Good  gracious !  was  that  thing  a  bee  ? 
He  stung  my  nose !  oh  Waccabuc ! 


TO  ALICE. 


As  beautiful,  as  sunset  dyes, 
You  chase  the  flitting  butterflies, 
When,  hang  him!  right  into  your  eyes 
A  punkey  goes,  at  Waccabuc. 

When  morning  wakes  the  distant  hills, 
When  dancing  sunbeams  kiss  the  rills, 
And  music  through  the  woodland  thrills, 
I  own  'tis  sweet  at  Waccabuc. 

At  noon  when  sultry  beams  descend, 
To  woody  streams  when  cattle  wend, 
Deep  in  the  forest-shade  I'd  spend 
The  noontide  hour  at  Waccabuc. 

When  daylight  closes  o'er  the  vale, 
And  evening  primrose  scents  the  gale, 
'Twere  joy  upon  the  lake  to  sail 
With  those  we  love  at  Waccabuc. 
Yours  truly, 

No  Waccabucer. 


LINES  WRITTEN  IN 


ISS  §  N'S  HlBUM, 

K$|J  OU  gave  me  this  book,  with  a  smile  to  indite 
yiJel   A  sentiment,  could  I  refuse  ? 
With  head  so  unsettled  and  aching  'tis  quite, 
Imposing  upon  my  poor  muse. 

Oh!  would  that  we  might  in  some  far  away  place, 
When  life  and  its  struggles  are  o'er; — 

Continue  forever  thro'  time  and  thro'  space, 
The  friendships  here  kindled  before. 

And  oh !  that  the  smiles  which  are  beaming  so  bright, 

To  crown  my  poor  efforts  to-day ; 
Could  follow  me  ever  life's  journey  to  light, 

And  cheer  with  their  sunbeams  my  way. 


182  LINES  WRITTEN  IN  MISS  O'LEAR  Y'S  ALB  UM. 


LINES  WRITTEN  IN 


LBUM. 


E  have  met  and  have  mingled  our  laughter  and 
And  now  comes  the  moment  for  parting ;  [smiles 
When  friendly  communion  so  sweetly  beguiles; 
Who  will  frown,  thro'  a  sigh  should  be  starting  ? 


LINES  WRITTEN  IN 


[iss  S'Ieary's  ||lbum. 


'VE  been  married  this  many  a  year, 
I   Now  sunshine — now  shadows  come  dreary; 
But  if  ever  I'm  single  again, 
I'll  be  thinking  of  you,  Miss  O'Leary ! 


f  0  lELLIE. 

EAR  Lellie,  how  the  time  has  flown, 
'Tis  near  a  month  since  last  we  met  you, 
And  many  a  month  will  fly — I  own, 

Before  the  friends  you  made,  forget  you. 

As  blooming  as  a  forest  rose, 

An  air  of  gladness  breathing  round  you, 
With  eyes  whose  sparkle,  cheeks  whose  glows, 

With  beauty  teem'd, — 'twas  thus  we  found  you. 

May  innocence  that  lights  your  smile, 
May  joyous  spirits  long  be  with  you; 

May  youth  and  health  each  care  beguile, 
And  Heaven  its  choicest  blessings  give  you. 


WHO  REQUESTED  ME  TO  WRITE — MENTIONING  EACH  NAME. 


EAR  girls  it  seems  an  age  since  I 
('Twas  just  two  weeks  ago  to-day;) 
Did  at  the  depot  say  "good-bye," 
And  sad  to  leave  you,  steam'd  away. 

I'm  sure  I  never  can  forget, 
The  merry  hours  we  past  together, 

The  walks,  the  talks,  the  songs  are  yet 
And  will  be  in  my  thoughts  forever. 

Louise,  your  pleasant  face  I  see, 

Good-nature ,  there  was  wanting,  never, 
But  still  a  quiet  dignity, 

Would  keep  me  at  a  distance,  ever. 

Elnorah,  do  you  recollect, 

What  happen'd  to  that  fishing  pole  ? 
You  did  the  damage,  I  expect, 

While  I  was  busy  taking  toll. 


TO  THE  MISSES 


185 


Encounters  follow 'd  thick  and  fast, 

Defiance — you  could  ever  look  it; 
Shrimps,  syrup,  flour,  I  stood  the  blast, 

Revenge  was  sweet,  and  faith,  I  took  it ! 

Sarah,  your  smile,  your  winning  grace, 
Your  eyes,  your  blush,  your  ways  betwitching; 

Could  I  behold  so  fair  a  face, 
And  not  for  one  poor  kiss  be  itching? 

I  fear'd  sometimes  as  round  we'd  race, 

Before  to  catch  you,  I  was  able; 
Some  dire  misfortune  would  take  place, 

And  we'd  capsize  the  dining  table. 

When  caught,  you  know  what  follow'd  well, 
A  scream  acknowledged  you  a  goner; 

Somebody 'd  say  "  what  for  you  yell! " 
And  I'd  skedaddle  round  the  corner. 

Emma,  dearest,  tho'  the  latest, 

Thus  do  we  a  feast  prepare; 
Substantials  first — but  the  sweetest, 

Is  the  desert  everywhere. 

Emma  do  you  ever  miss  me  ? 

Who  have  you  to  tease  you  now? 
What  a  rumpus  we  made— bless  me  ! 

It  was  fun,  you  must  allow. 


186 


MY  DREAM. 


How  I'd  race  you  to  the  kitchen, 
Up  the  road  and  down  the  lawn ; 

When  I  caught  you,  how  you'd  pitch  in, 
Pout  and  scold,  for  dresses  torn. 

Such  a  dream  I  dream'd  about  you, 
Sure  was  never  dreamed  before ; 

Dreams  were  shabby  dreams  without  you, 
From  dreams  I  wake,  to  miss  you  more. 


MY  DREAM. 

I  thought  with  ' '  Knots  Untied"  that  I  was  seated, 
In  that  old  arm-chair  down  upon  the  lawn. 

The  sighing  breeze  my  senses  softly  greeted, 
The  brisk  mosquito,  sounding  was,  his  horn. 

The  bumble  bees  were  bumming  all  around  me, 
A  saucy  gnat  was  tickling  my  nose ; 

Where  e'er  I  went,  the  blackguards  always  found 
An  apple  drop'd  upon  my  corn-cursed  toes. 

Just  off  into  a  doze,  as  I  was  going, 
Quite  unsuspecting  coming  harm  or  care ; 

You  came  so  shyly  up  behind  me  throwing 
That  horrid  hornet's  nest  beneath  my  chair. 


TO  THE  MISSES  

That  seat  of  cane,  I  lost  no  time  forsaking, — 
'Twas  poor  protection  from  the  attack  in  rear; 

With  fearful  howl,  tracks  for  the  house  I'm  making, 
As  thro'  the  kitchen  door  you  disappear. 

Good  gracious  !  James,  oh  dear,  what  is  the  matter? 

Cries  Mrs.  C. — awaking  with  a  scream; 
As  with  the  bed  clothes,  I  the  hornets  scatter, — 
A  tumble  on  the  floor,  cuts  short  my  dream. 


o  the  Misses  

ISSES  Blank,  I  send  you  greetings! 
Thanks  for  answer  to  my  letter, 
For  your  kind  reception  of  it, 
May  you  ever  be  as  merry, 
As  you  were  at  the  perusal; 
Louise,  your  answer  pleased  me  muchly— 
I  do  hereby  send  you  greetings, 
I,  the  rhyming  wight  call'd  Cromwell, 
With  X.  M.  as  antecedent; 
Not  old  Oliver,  the  Round  Head, 
Otherwise  called  the  Protector, 
Who  the  English  so  bamboozled, 
Stuffed  witli  psalms  and  dry  saltpetre 


TO  THE  MISSES  

In  the  shape  of  blasting  powder; 
That  they  hoisted  good  King  Charlie, 
Found  him  guilty  of  King's-evil, 
And  to  cure  him  chopped  his  head  off ; 
Making  the  said  ancient  Cromwell, 
Of  the  realm  High  Cockalorum. 

Should  you  ask  me  do  I  miss  you? 
Miss  the  songs  you  used  to  sing  me, 
Miss  the  romps,  the  fun,  the  frolic, 
Miss  the  boatings,  and  the  rambles 
Thro'  the  woods  and  over  fences, 
Down  the  road  to  railroad  crossing, 
Where  as  pilgrims  oft  you  tarried, 
To  the  Gods  to  pay  devotion; 
Past  the  rock  that  had  an  odor 
Fish-like  as  of  ancient  herrings ; 
To  the  Indian  well  and  chair  too; 
Sarah,  deeply  sympathetic 
Were  my  feelings  for  your  bruises, 
When  from  that  stone  fence  you  tumbled, 
By  the  mill  to  "  Rock  of  Lover's," 
Where  Elnorah,  you  and  I,  sat 
Listening  to  the  what-you-call-'ems, 
Singing  to  the  thingcombobums ; 
Up  the  hill  beside  the  mill-pond, 
Where  upon  a  time  we  wander'd, 
Emma  you  and  I  together; 
And  you  carved  your  pretty  name  there, 


TO  THE  MISSES  


On  the  bark  of  that  old  chestnut, 
While  a  student  botanizing 
Tulips  I  found  in  perfection. 

Do  I  miss  you  !  yes,  I  miss  you ; 
Miss  you  like  the  very  dickens ! 
Miss  the  songs  you  used  to  sing  me 
All  about  that  little  bonnet, 
With  the  huckleberry  trimming, 
And  the  waterfall  of  bretzel, 
Which  was  certainly  convenient, 
Should  the  wearer  ever  suffer 
For  the  want  of  fresh  provisions; 
All  about  that  gallant  lover, 
Brave  O'Neal  and  fair  young  bride  too, 
Who  went  sailing  to  the  bottom, 
With  the  ship  in  Bay  of  Dublin. 

All  about  that  little  joker, 

Hid  away  among  the  roses, 

Who  enjoys  phlebotomizing, 

The  fluttering  hearts  of  willing  damsels 

Don't  you  let  the  rogue  Tom  fool  you, 

Keep  the  fellows  at  a  distance, 

When  they  come  with  airs  exquisite, 

Filibustering  around  you, 

English  collars,  mutton  whiskers, 

Stovepipe  hats,  and  parson  neckties, 

Bob-tail  coats  and  stripped  trowsers, 


TO  THE  MISSES 


Light  kid  gloves  and  patent  leathers ; 

Got  up  in  the  pink  of  fashion; 

Drat  them,  don't  you  let  them  kiss  you; 

Make  the  flunkies  know  their  places. 

Say  to  this  one — "  get  along  now; 

Sir!  I  don't  allow  such  doings! 

Do  you  take  me  for  a  noodle  ? 

Drat  you,  go  to — go  to  blazes!" 

At  another,  should  he  tease  you, 

Let  fly  Webster's  Dictionary, 

Unabridged  and  Illustrated; 

Give  it  to  him,  hot  and  heavy; 

Tell  him  of  deosculation, 

You've  an  utter  detestation, — 

Think  it  horrid — diabolic — 

Such  spontaneous  combustion, 

Discombobulates  digestion, 

Necessitating  sudorifics, 

Phlebotomizing,  anthelmintics ; 

This,  no  doubt,  will  make  them  stagger; 

Wilt  them  down  like  tripe  in  pickle ! 

As  a  clincher  tell  them  kindly 

That  the  train  will  be  in  waiting, 

By  the  time  they  reach  the  depot; 

Give  them  every  one  the  mitten. 

Be  good  girls  till  I  come  see  you, 
I  will  try  then  to  amuse  you. 
I  will  tell  you  all  about  it, 


TO  THE  MISSES  


191 


All  about  the  Pumpkin ville  news,* 

All  about  his  cousin  Shadpole, 

Zachariah,  his  christian  name  was; 

How  to  see  the  elephantus, 

He  to  town,  invited  Zekel, 

How  the  mumps  took  Hanner  Jane,  too; 

How  the  dumps  upset  her  parents, 

In  consequence  of  the  said  mumping; 

I  will  tell  of  Zephaniah, 

How  he  came  a  courting  Susan ; 

One  effect  of  the  said  courting 

Was  that  Lemuel  looking  blue,  was, 

Who,  poor  devil,  Susan  jilted! 

For  the  killing  Zephaniah. 

All  about  that  parson  scandal ; 
Dorcus  Jones  and  Cynthy  Gray  too ; 
What  a  horrid  naughty  fellow ! 
How  because  Ruth  was  so  ruthless, 
Deacon  Squaretoe  took  to  drinking. 
All  about  that  pup  of  Rachel's, 
All  about  old  dried  up  brindie, 
All  about  the  widow  Grim  too, 
How  she  jined  the  hard-shell  baptists; 
All  about  the  school-marm  spanking; 
All  about  the  Tom  cat  chawing, 
By  that  obdurate  dog,  Towser; 
All  about  those  long-tail  squashes, 
The  advance  in  garden  sasses; 
All  about  Jemima's  baby, 
*  See  Pumpkin  ville  News. 


192 


TO  THE  MISSES 


Whose  hair  was  as  red  as  blazes; 
Jemima  caring  not  a  hooter. 

I  will  tell  of  Uncle  Pete  too, 
Patience  Drybones  and  her  wig,  too, 
Warming-pans  and  hump-back  dresses, 
Indian  meal  and  man  of  soap-fat, 
Tooth  extracting,  yearth-quake  shaking; 
All  about  Jerusha's  pill,  too, 
Which  was  antiflabergistic; 
All  about  that  rumy  Peleg, 
Who  would  take  his  toddy  slyly, 
Unbeknown  to  Mrs.  P.  too. 

All  about  that  Shang-Hai  rooster, 
Who  so  envious  of  the  hens  was, 
That  he  laid  a  bigger  egg  now, 
Than  a  hen  has  ever  dared  to. 
I  will  sing  of  that  church  fair,  too, 
Where  they  took  you  in  and  done  you; 
Where  they  sold  boquets  and  kisses, 
Gals  so  tarnal  sweet  and  stunnin — 
Don't  I  wish  that  I  had  been  there? 

I  will  tell  of  that  old  Phelem* 
O'Slaughterdy,  I  think  his  name  was, 
Who  the  quality  was  top  of, 
Who  was  raised  in  that  fine  mansion, 

*  See  Adventures  of  O'Slaughterdy. 


TO  THE  MISSES 


With  the  speckled  pigs  and  mare,  too, 
That  belonged  to  Timothy  Finnegan. 
I  will  tell  of  those  old  breeches 
That  he  of  his  father  borrow'd, 
Unbeknown  to  the  said  daddy ; 
Of  that  petticoat,  so  famous, 
That  belonged  to  his  grandmother, 
Made  into  a  carpet  satchel, 
Where  that  pair  of  brogans  packed  was, 
With  the  Donnybrook  newspaper, 
Which  had  all  the  latest  items, 
Just  the  prettiest  sort  of  reading, 
For  a  boy  like  the  said  Phelem. 
I  will  tell  you  all  about  it, 
How  he  went  upon  his  travels, 
How  the  ship  was  toss'd  about  so, 
That  the  sea  upset  his  stomach, 
And  deprived  him  of  his  breakfast, 
Which  capsized  into  his  cap,  was, 
While  a  dreadful  pain  across  him, 
Raked  his  inwards  all  to  smitherins. 

Should  you  ask  me,  what's  the  meaning 
Of  this  blather,  bosh  and  nonsense, 
Without  either  rhyme  or  reason, 
Whether  I  have  lost  my  senses, 
Am  in  fact  non  compos  mentis, 
(In  other  words,  am  getting  luny), 
Where  you'll  find  some  other  like  it? 


TO  THE  MISSES 


I  will  answer, — I  will  tell  you, — 
Go  and  listen  to  the  waters, 
To  the  little  babbling  streamlet, 
Laughing,  leaping,  dancing,  brawling,, 
With  its  sandy — pebbly  bottom, 
Sparkling  in  the  glinting  sunbeams, 
While  the  little  pollywoggers 
Wagging  all  their  infant  tails  are. 

I  will  answer, — I  will  tell  you; — 
Through  the  moaning  forest  wander, 
When  the  autumn  winds  are  sighing, 
When  the  withered  leaves  are  scatter'd,, 
Caught  up  in  the  whirling  eddies, 
Shivering,  rustling,  sweeping  onward, 
Crushed  beneath  the  plodding  footsteps,, 
Flitting  in  the  dying  sunlight, 
As  it  sinks  below  the  hill-tops, 
While  the  calling  of  the  Blue  Jay, 
Wierdly  sounding  in  the  distance, 
Chimes  with  nature's  air  of  sadness. 

Should  you  tell  me  there  was  never 
Such  a  string  of  idle  nonsense, 
Such  a  want  of  rhyme  and  reason, 
Such  a  hodge-podge  put  together; 
I  will  answer — I  will  tell  you, — 
Should  you  now  insist  upon  it, 
How  I  got  it  in  my  noddle. 


TO  THE  MISSES 


1  will  tell  you,  go  and  read  it, — 
Tell  you  go  and  read  the  romance, 
Read  about  old  Yankeefungo, 
Bead  about  old  Bullybottom, 
Head  about  sweet  Biddy  Dolan, 
Otherwise  call'd  Cranky  Biddy, 
By  Longfellow  christen'd  Henry, — 
Wadsworth  coming  intercedent, — 
Head  the  "  Song  of  Hiawatha." 


8  Simile. 

EHOLD !  a  rocket  seeks  the  skies, 
In  bright  array  ascending; 
Exploding  bursts  in  gorgeous  dyes, — 
In  smut  and  paste-board  ending. 

Tis  thus  the  base  soul  doth  arise, 
Of  gold  and  glare,  the  minion; 

Awhile  aloft  triumphant  flies — 
To  fall  with  drabbled  pinion. 

'Tis  thus  vain  hopes  with  tempting  ray, 

Will  lure  to  our  undoing; 
With  ruddy  light  illume  the  way, 

And  die,  while  we're  pursuing. 

'Tis  thus  we  chase  the  glittering  charms, 
Our  eyes  that  blind  with  flashes; 

Which  eager  catching  to  our  arms, 
We  find  but  smut  and  ashes. 

As  children,  we  are  longing  for 

With  what  we  are  disgusted 
As  soon  as  ours,  and  prize  no  more 

Than  rockets  when  they've  busted. 


Y  fflSION. 

IPSTWlNE  morning  on  her  way  to  school 

jgjaKgl Caught  in  a  summer  shower, 

With  tripping  feet,  I  chanced  to  meet 

My  dainty  dripping  flower. 

44  With  my  umbrella  Miss  "  I  said, 

44  Allow  me  to  protect; 

'Twere  pleasure  to  thus  shelter  you, — 

I  pray  you  don't  object." 

She  thank'd  me  with  a  dimpling  smile, — 

A  row  of  pearls  I  saw ; 

The  voice  I  heard  of  singing  bird, 

Which  comes  with  winter's  thaw; 

The  vagrant  bee  in  search  of  sweets, 

Her  tempting  lip  would  lance ; 

At  hide  and  seek,  from  cheek  to  cheek, 

The  rosy  dimples  dance. 

Her  gray  eyes  witch'd  me  with  a  spell, — 

Those  wonderous  dreamy  eyes; 

As  deep  a  gray  as  morning's  ray, 

When  waking  summer  skies; 

Her  soul  was  looking  from  its  depths, 

In  each  bright  glance  they  threw, 

The  ray,  I  thought,  from  Heaven  was  caught, 

That  glorified  their  hue. 


TO  MR.  AND  MRS.  HENRY  HELD. 


Her  hair  was  as  the  yellow  floss, 

Too  airy  light  to  bind; 

Coy  zephyr  stray'd  and  dallying  play'd, 

In  golden  clouds  enshrin'd. 

I  saw  her  to  the  school-house  door, 

And  there  I  left  her  then ; 

I  never  saw  her  like  before, — 

I  never  shall  again. 


R.  AND  §[RS.  If  ENRY  If  ELD. 


EAR  friends,  a  shadow,  dark  and  drear, 
Has  clouded  all  your  skies ; — 
A  daughter,  none  can  tell  how  dear, 
Low  in  the  church-yard  lies. 

She  ever  in  the  hearts  of  those 

Who  loved  her,  will  abide ; 
Death,  but  a  veil  between  you  throws, 

Which  memory  casts  aside. 

In  innocence,  she  pass'd  away, 

Unchanging  bliss  to  feel; 
Your  griefs, — too  sacred  to  portray, — 

Her  virtues  all,  reveal. 


UNCTUATION  IN  |?LY  SlME. 


IggBEfll    Such  crawling,  and  buzzing,  and  biting; 
On  your  nose,  in  your  hair,  in  your  eyes, — 
Confound  it!  I'll  put  up  my  writing! 

That  rascal, — he's  off  like  a  shot; — 
He  look'd  now,  as  wise  as  a  Solon; 
At  the  end  of  that  line  as  he  squat, — 
Of  my  period  making  a  colon. 

He's  lit  on  the  tip  of  my  nose, 
I'd  give  anything  to  dispatch  him ; — 
To  semi-colons  back  there  he  goes, 
My  comas  to  lengthen — duce  catch  him. 


BOTHER!  the  duce  take  the  flies! 


ONSENSE. 


OME  people  conversing  your  ears  will  assail, 


gagg   With  idle  repeatings  and  slang  phrases  stale ; 
Long  stories  strung  out  that  your  patience  so  try, 
Lugging  in  every  sentence  a  foolish  usays  I;" 
While  others  again  who  to  bedlam  should  go, 
About  every  six  words  will  tell  you  uyou  know." 
Others  their  want  of  good  sense  will  confess, 
By  repeating  forever-and-ever  "  I  guess." 
Some  jabber  away  till  they  get  in  a  sweat, 
And  when  asked  a  question  reply  with,  "you  bet." 
Ned  shows  approval  for  something  you  do. 
By  pounding  your  back,  with  a  "  bully  for  you;" 
Poor  Billy,  all  giggles,  turns  over  his  quid, 
And  grins  in  your  face  with,  "he  did  and  he  did;" 
Jones,  a  good  fellow  expresses  surprise 
By  blessing  his  soul  and  blasting  his  eyes, 
The  colloquial  powers  of  friend  Simpson  are  small, 
They  mostly  consist  of  "yars — yars"  with  a  drawl. 
There's  pert  little  Susan  as  brisk  as  a  bee, 
Her  tongue's  ever  wagging  with  "  says  I,  and  says  she," 
If  you  ask  Smith  a  question  of  wisdom  or  folly 
For  the  tail  of  his  answer  he  always  has,  "  jolly." 
As  you're  hurrying  along  on  your  back  should  you  trip, 


NONSENSE. 


201 


That  fool  of  a  Sniffin  bawls  out,  44  let  her  rip." 

Hobby's  a  wit,  but  nobody  knows  it, 

His  greeting  is  ever,  "  well  Jimmy  how  goes  it." 

Preserve  me  from  Simmons, — he  is  such  an  ass, — 

His  knock  down  argument  is,  "go  to  grass." 

Jake  of  your  story  expresses  a  doubt, 

With  a  leer  of  the  eye  and  along  drawn. "geet  eout." 

I  cannot  endure  that  niny  Tom  Fell, — 

To  every  assertion  he  lugs  in,  "  do  tell?" 

Kate  with  a  laugh  and  complexion  quite  florid, 

At  a  rather  broad  joke,  blunts  out,  "ain't  he  horrid." 

Pipes  when  a  fellow  has  drank  himself  sick, 

Insists  upon  calling  him,  "  tight  as  a  brick." 

Stubbs  you  address  and  await  a  reply, 

The  answer  you  get  is,  "  that's  all  in  my  eye." 

Of  stringing  these  rhymes  should  you  ask  me  the  use, 

I  likely  would  tell  you  to,  "go  to  the  duce." 


[VAST  with  your  blue  devil  croaking, 
This  world  is  a  world  to  enjoy; 
To  be  down  with  the  dumps  is  provoking,— 

Then  let  us  be  jolly  old  boy! 
Don't  squeak  like  a  stuck  pig,  I  tell  you, 

When  care  shows  his  grimy  old  face ; 
But  tackle  him,  should  he  compel  you, 
With  the  broadest  of  grins  and  grimace. 


Take  counsel  of  one  ye  good  fellows, 

To  the  lee  of  life's  breakers  who  steers ; 
Who  Time  as  he  flies,  only  mellows; 

Who  feels  yet  a  chicken  in  years. 
Hypochondriacs  let  them  go  prating 

Of  the  duties  we  owe  to  mankind ; 
This  world,  and  its  follies,  berating, — 

Poor  devils  they're  totally  blind. 

The  old  adage,*  had  they  their  senses, 
In  our  cheerfulness  plainly  they'd  see ; 

The  indicative  mood, — present  tense  is, 
So  happy — what  saints  we  must  be ! 

This  example  humanity  setting, 
Thro'  life  as  we  jocosly  stray; 


To  be  good  is  to  be  happy." 


CATS. 


203 


Night  phantoms  in  sunshine  forgetting, 
We'll  write  them  down  asses,  who  bray. 

Avast  then,  with  blue-devil  croaking, 
This  world  is  a  world  to  enjoy; 

To  be  down  with  the  dumps  is  provoking — 
Then  don't  be  a  donkey,  old  boy! 


|ats 


Air. — "  BELIEVE  ME  IF  ALL  THOSE  ENDEARING  YOUNG 
CHARMS." 

||HAT  Thomas  cat  that  had  that  spat, 
That  caused  that  fearful  clatter, 
If  he  hadn't  spat  he'd  had  that  rat, 
And  that's  what's  the  matter! 

Catullus. 


One  moonshiny  night  at  the  window  I  sat, 

Coaxing  my  muse  to  inspire  me; 
But  vain  the  attempt — not  a  rhyme  would  come  pat, 

Not  a  spark  would  she  kindle  to  fire  me. 


204 


CATS. 


I  gazed  at  the  moon,  and  I  gazed  at  the  fence, 
Where  a  Thomas  cat  sadly  reflected; 

And  it  struck  me  his  misery  must  be  intense, — 
So  used  up  he  look'd, — and  dejected. 

When  presently,  up  comes  a  brindly  gray, 
His  tail  slashing  'round  him  like  mad ; 

From  his  looks,  I  well  knew  he  had  something  to  sa 
Such  a  speaking  expression  he  had. 

He  paused  as  he  sighted  the  other  feline, 

And  glared  with  his  yellowish  eye; 
He  twisted  his  head  on  one  side,  with  a  whine, 
And  pointed  his  tail  to  the  sky. 

This  was  wormwood  and  gall  to  a  woe  begone  cat , 

Devised  with  insulting  intent, 
With  as  spiteful  a  yell,  as  of  Satan  begat, 

For  the  hide  of  old  brindle  he  went. 

Such  profanity  follow'd; — 'twas  shocking  to  hear. 

From  the  window,  I  hasten'd  to  get; 
When  a  boot  hit  insulted,  a  clip  in  the  rear, 

And  fencing  offences  upset. 


Epigrammatic. 


UP  AND  DOWN. 
Tom  keeps  his  carriage, — 

His  wife  puts  on  airs ; — 
They  both  before  marriage, 

Mounted  six  flights  of  stairs. 

Much  nearer  to  Heaven, 
While  fortune  did  frown ; 

Her  favors,  once  given, 
Soon  tumbled  them  down. 


MY  CRITIC. 
Sue  hates  my  rhymes, 
And  more's  the  pity! 
She's  lost  her  wits, 
And  thinks  she's  witty! 


"OUR  FATHER  IN  HEAVEN." 

SO  SAID  A  TOMB  STONE. 

Your  father  in  Heaven? 

Bless  me !  do  tell ! 
'Tis  more  than  suspicion'd 

Your  father's  in  Hell. 


EPIGBA  MM  A  TIC. 


A  SOLACE. 
I  never  beheld  a  bald  pate, 

From  a  cardinal's  down  to  a  boots' ; 
But  its  owner's  brain- work  was  so  great 

It  had  dug  his  hair  out  by  the  roots. 


CONVINCING. 
Jack. — "  She  escaped  by  the  skin  of  her  teeth." 
Jim. — "  You're  mistaken  Jack, — don't  be  a  lubber  I 
Where  was  the  skin,  (to  be  brief) 
When  the  whole  set  was  set  upon  rubber?" 


THE  FOUR  TOMS. 

QUESTIONS  FOR  CRITICS. 

Am  I  Tom  Moore,  for  sentiment? 

Am  I  Tom  Hood,  for  fun? 
Am  I  Tom  Fool  and  no  mistake? 

Or  Tom  Titmouse  his  son? 


[OTHER  gOOSE  CONTINUED. 


jAMMY  Ramson  ripped  his  hose, 
Aunt  Tabitha's  fond  of  pig;  ' 
Eebecca  Jane  go  blow  your  nose, 
You  nasty  little  twirlymagig! 

Benjamin  Butler  took  the  spoons, 

Likewise  pots  and  kettles ; 
Which  trying  was  to  rebel  coons, 

Depending  on  spoon  victuals. 

Sister  Fan,  observed  a  man, 

Engaged  in  peeling  eels ; 
"  You  wretch,"  (cried  she)  "I'd  like  to  see 

You  stripped  from  head  to  heels. " 

President  Grant,  importuned  by  his  aunt, 

For  a  government  situation ; 
At  Aunty,  (quote  he,)  such  a  muss  there  would  be, 

They'd  call  it  a  she  'ministration." 


MOTHER  GOOSE.- CONTINUED. 

Bergh  gave  a  purge,  and  sung  a  dirge, 
In  a  cock-pit  at  Pat.  Duppy's ; 

A  prize  he  found  in  snooking  round, 
A  bitch  with  six  blind  puppies! 

General  Sheri — dan,  you  naughty  man, 
Oh  dear!  poor  Lousy  Anna! 

What  made  you  go,  abuse  her  so, 
Upset  her,  and  trepan  her? 

Mr.  Green,  down  town  was  seen, 
Looking  somewhat  yellow; 

A  hungry  calf,  that  made  him  laugh, 
For  city  funds  did  bellow. 

Dear  Mother  Goose,  I've  no  excuse, 

I  see  I've  made  a  blunder; 
I  took  your  name,— I  am  to  blame — 

Write  me  down,  Sire  Gander! 


f  o  1r.  f  enry  f  ergh. 


I P  puppy  dogs  thou  great  defender, 
Of  horses  spavin'd,  botted,  blind; 
Of  cats,  of  kittens  young  and  tender, 

Of  calves,  pigs,  Jacks,  of  assine  kind  ! 
Brays,  neighs,  growls,  grunters,  all  combin'd. 


The  pups,  oh !  may  they  never  bite  thee ! 

The  nags,  thee  never  kick  nor  throw ! 
Nor  cats,  nor  kittens,  spit  to  spite  thee, — 

May  calves,  pigs,  asses,  love  thee  so ! 
Their  great  Jehovah,  Jove  or  jo. 


OMAN'S  MIGHTS. 

Air. — "  Straddle  the  Broomstick." 

l|^I|OW  give  me  your  attention 
Good  people  one  and  all, 
What  I'm  a  going  to  mention 

A  fair  one  did  befall, 
A  damsel  young  and  virtuous, 

Although  of  low  degree ; 
As  blooming  as  a  cabbage  rose, 

A  pleasant  thing  to  see. 

She  dwelt  down  in  Connecticut, 

Where  you  would  be  amazed 
At  the  quantity  of  onions  grown, 

And  garden  truck  that's  raised. 
Her  father  was  a  husbandman 

And  till'd  a  smallish  farm, 
And  lived  in  peace  and  quietness, 

With  'Mirny  and  her  marm. 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS 


She  was  the  darling  of  her  pa, 

Her  mothers  pride  was  she ; 
Brothers  and  sisters  she  had  none 

With  whom  to  disagree ; 
And  as  she  was  an  only  child 

She  did  the  usual  way; 
She  let  her  mother  do  the  work, 

While  she  was  nix  for  stay. 

Hard  by  their  cottage  there  did  dwell 

Another  family; 
In  circumstances  different — 

They  were  the  quality, 
Or,  what  was  called  the  upper  crust, 

By  all  the  country  round; 
Her  daddy  was  the  under  crust, 

Because  he  ploughed  the  ground. 

This  family  had  several  sons, 

And  daughters,  three  or  four; 
And  there  was  no  good  reason  why 

They  shouldn't  have  several  more ; 
One  of  the  sons,  a  nice  young  man, 

Just  turned  of  seventeen, 
Had  seen  Jemima  many  a  time, 

A  romping  on  the  green. 

Had  met  her  at  the  shindy-digs 
And  corn-huskings  around; 


212 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS. 


And  many  a  sheep's-eye  cast  at  her, 
Which  hit  her, — I'll  be  bound. 

Her  friends  soon  whispered  it  about 
With  frowns,  and  nods,  and  winks — 

A  precious  gudgeon  she  had  hook'd, 
The  brazen  little  minx. 

A  maxim  there  is,  old  and  trite, 

"  Let  them  laugh  who  win." 
As  long  as  they  could  have  their  way, 

The  world  might  frown  or  grin, 
Now,  as  they  saw  their  parents  do, 

They  wanted  to  go  and  git —  ' 
And  live  together  all  their  lives, 

According  to  holy  writ. 

But  here  it  happen'd  once  again, 

As  it  has  happen'd  before ; 
A  cruel  parent  interferes, 

Which  leastways  was  a  bore; 
His  pa  allows  with  emphasis — 

In  fact,  a  perfect  gale, — 
He  never  shall  marry  Jemima  Swipes 

While  a  tad-pole  wears  a  tail. 

There's  many  a  happy  frog,  I  trow, 
Raised  from  a  wee  tad-pole ; 

Perhaps  it  was  this  thought  that  did 
The  lover's  grief  control ; 


WOMAN'S  RIGHTS. 


213 


If  so,  at  fault  their  logic  was, 

Nor  hit  the  question  plump, 
For  a  tad-pole  is  a  tad-pole  not, 

When  he  drops  his  tail  for  a  rump. 

But  love,  they  say  is  always  blind, 

They  did  not  see  it  thus; 
For  logic  or  for  reason — why, 

They  did  not  care  a  cuss. 
Their  eyes  connecting  telegraphs, 

In  every  smile  and  look, 
Sweet  telegrams  transmitted  were ; 

Their  lips  the  impressions  took. 

'  'What  next?  as  the  tadpole  inquired  when  his  tail 
dropped  off." 

What  next,  you'll  ask  as  tadpole  did, 

The  day  he  lost  his  tail ; 
ISTo  riddle  it  is,  you  know  yourselves, 

For  petticoats  you'd  go  bail; 
She  had  her  will — what  woman  don't  ? 

'Twere  needless  to  contend; 
His  pa  gave  in — she  cards  gave  out, 

And  here  my  tale  doth  end. 


j&AST,  gRESENT  AND  JUTURE. 


N  life's  early  spring-time  advancing, 
Tho'  wild  notes  come  sweet  from  the  spray, 
Tho'  the  streamlet  is  brawling  and  dancing, 
We  long  for  the  blossoms  of  May, 


Lo!  May  comes,  resplendent  with  blushes, 
Enraptured  we  welcome  the  boon; 

Bloom,  incense,  bird  warblings  and  gushes ; 
Then  sigh  for  the  bowers  of  sweet  June. 


June  waves  her  green  boughs  as  in  greeting, 
Crowns  us  with  laurels  and  palms; 

Our  transports  sincere, — but  how  fleeting, — 
We  wish  now  for  midsummer  charms. 


Looking  round  with  a  doubt — a  misgiving, 
As  summer's  late  roses  appear, 

We  turn  with  a  throb  from  the  living, 
Perceiving  chill  Autumn  so  near. 


PAST,  PRESENT  AND  FUTURE.  215 

On  the  heels  of  old  winter  now  treading, 
How  we  treasure  the  joys  we  have  known, 

Nature  varies  her  glories  in  shedding, 
Alas !  ours  forever  have  flown ; 

We  die — is  the  end  the  beginning? 
Die, — and  the  mystery's  your  own. 


